A Spy's Choice
by flightyclouds
Summary: The story of a naive and righteous Karsite assassin, who is sent to kill the Great Traitor, Alberich.
1. Chapter 1

Hey all! My first Valdemar fanfic, and any feedback is appreciated :)

This takes place during Exile's Honor but is spoiler free. I only own what you don't recognize as Mercedes Lackey's.

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Kerchen brushed the mule vigorously but affectionately, thinking the beast was probably the most likable thing in this Holding. The mule brayed and tried to nuzzle Kerchen, as though in agreement. The Holderkin were about the most ungracious lot he'd ever met, only slightly above bandits.

_It's bad enough that they are heretics_, he thought, disgusted. _Little wonder they've chosen to ally themselves with the Demonriders._

There was nothing he liked about the Holderkin-the way each man took on a blasphemous number of wives, the terribly drab and unfortunately ubiquitous brown clothes, their heathen Goddess, and, well, their _atrocious_ personalities. To call them miserly cowards without a conscience would be too kind, for it still implied that they were human.

As if on cue, the Firstwife Werda-_that **travesty**_ _of a woman-_stamped into the stable. A rigid woman so angular as to have been chiseled out of rock, her austere and kept appearance belied the wild anger that was etched into every crease in her weathered face. Her brown hair, tied into a knot as tight as her nerves, was only the slightest out of place, likely due to her usual rush to punish everyone she outranked for a reason that was more often than not a figment of her imagination. With a flash of rage crossing her glittering dark eyes, she approached the boy with a now familiar leather belt in hand.

"You good-for-nothing _imbecile_!" She shrieked, doling out her first lashes on Kerchen, who could only bring his arms up in a futile attempt to protect himself, "You'd enjoy getting paid while doing nothing, wouldn't you? You think you can just hide here and play do you, you stupid mutt!" She let out a string of colorful expletives to accompany the string of beatings. Kerchen would likely have been impressed with her inspired use of language, had his mastery of Valdemaran been up to par. Unfortunately, this was not the case, despite having spent no less than five years with these scum. Well, to give credit where it was due, Kerchen had amassed quite a repertoire of Valdemaran curses from Werda, though for all he knew all Valdemarans regularly talked like this.

_I wouldn't expect anything less crude from a country of monsters_.

No matter; he was employed under this Holding for one reason, and one reason only-to learn their language. Sunpriest Goroch had expressed his hope that Kerchen would learn the language of their greatest enemies to aid Kerchen in bringing justice to the Demonriders. At age 10, he had sought out the Holderkin, whom Goroch had said were suffering from a shortage of everything after a bandit raid had killed many of their kin. He told them he was the son of a shepherd who was killed by bandits, and was looking for extra work of any kind. This was not entirely untrue-and the memory of his guardian and adopted father Lugard had turned his words into sobs-and so his urgent, pleading story had convinced the Holding of his sincerity, nevermind that most of the story had to be told in charades. Kerchen had spied on some families first to grasp a bit of their demon language beforehand, but, as he'd predicted, those results were limited.

She finally beat his body one too many times. He involuntarily let out a yelp of pain and cowered to the ground. _Stupid! _He immediately felt the shame of doing so heat his cheeks. His eyes welled with angry tears that wanted to burst out with each burning lash, but he set his chin and held them back with all his might. Kerchen, who had already killed more heretics than the years he had lived, had a strong sense of pride. But, if he rebelled, he would lose his valuable lessons, lessons a _Sunpriest_ had wished him to take. Unable to run or rebel, he determined instead not to let Werda see his tears-not to let her have the satisfaction of having thoroughly bested him.

As he suffered under her hand, he tried hard to make his mind wander. Some of these lashings were going to end in scars, but Kerchen placed little value on his complexion-rather, it was a mark of his dedication to his duty, to both Vkandis Sunlord and to himself. ...Well, less nobly, he always felt his heart lift a little when Goroch noticed any new scars of his-the Sunpriest's chidings and worry were the closest things Kerchen now had to Lugard's love and concern, and Kerchen drank it up greedily. He chased anything, _anything_ that reminded him of Lugard.

Finally, Werda decided that he was adequately punished-_for not being miserable enough-_and barked some orders for him to carry water from the well and gather firewood. He tried to obey her immediately but stumbled, weak-kneed from the abuse he had just suffered. Werda started, as if to hit him again for having the temerity to feel pain, but evidently decided that he'd had enough, as she instead doublechecked the stable.

_Or maybe her arm's just tired_, Kerchen thought cynically, as he left the shabby wooden stable, dragging himself off to the well. Werda rarely did any chores herself-any kind of work was left to the lower wives and any little able to walk on two legs and lift up two arms. His eyes fell on a little, barely seven, that concentrated intensely on mending the brown rags in her lap. A small thing with mousy brown hair, her twig-like legs seemed to tremble with fear, fear of doing anything that would get her beaten. Because the fear of making a mistake was so intense, her arms were held staunchly stiff, her little hands mending the clothes with more expertise than any child her age should have. Though this was an inevitable result of living in bandit territory, Kerchen found himself sympathizing with these children, who had not yet turned into a demon like all of Valdemar's adults.

_But that's a foolish distinction to make, as Valdemaran blood is one in the same with the blood of demons. Goroch said so himself, and he, as a Voice of Vkandis, could not lie._

But those who have not wronged yet are innocent, and it would be dishonorable to blame those who were still blameless. For now he would do what he could to help them, even if it is for a wage that could only purchase a loaf of bread, and that would be if he saved up. Oh, these Holderkin might think they were getting a deal out of this arrangement, but they didn't know a thing-he would use his knowledge of their language to help undermine their entire society of demons. Dreams of luxury and fame meant nothing to Kerchen-Kerchen instead dreamed of serving Karse, of giving Goroch vital information on Valdemar, dreamed of slaying their heretics whose deeds were replete with sin, dreamed of putting his life on the line in the name of Vkandis Sunlord. It was with these daydreams that he trudged through the day until it turned to night, and received the wage that the father of the household reluctantly relinquished.

_As if I could live off this_, Kerchen thought scornfully, but his mouth instead blabbed some gracious words before his feet carried him off, away from the unsavory Holding. He was given leave to tend to the remains of his land once a moon, and so rather than the stable he normally stayed in, he continued towards the direction of Karse, the homeland that he loved. Of course, going back to his land was an excuse-Kerchen was actually planning on visiting Goroch. After pausing for a beat to pick up his cloth sack, the boy's sinewy legs gave way to a light trot, as his spirits lifted from the thought of leaving the heathen Valdemarans and into the sanctuary of Goroch's quarters.

_Perhaps he will give me a bigger allowance this time,_ Kerchen mused, hopefully. _Maybe even some spiced sausage-something dried to take with me on my next trip into this Sunlord-forsaken land. I think I've improved my Valdemaran a lot this time, and I probably look like I suffered as much as I _did_..._

He looked down at himself. A child of Karse from top to bottom, his body was wiry and angular, but, due to his training, not awkward like most children through their growth spurt. Though only about fifteen, his weathered face and hardened body smattered with scars could pass for a whole range of ages. He was proud of his appearance, its combination of laborer and fighter, which Goroch said were two occupations Vkandis smiled upon. Both Goroch and Lugard were devout men, and Kerchen learned well by their examples. Lugard, a shepherd who could not spare the time to attend services, had still insisted on teaching Kerchen the Ways of Vkandis and the Writ. He had even saved coppers for months to buy a copy of the Writ, despite the fact that he was illiterate. Kerchen had since learned to read under Goroch's sponsorship, and read the book at any chance he could. The book was about the only thing that the bandits had not taken-including Lugard's life.

A lump in his throat rose again, but Kerchen tried to ignore it by filling his stomach instead. He opened his sack, filled with blankets for camping on the way to Goroch's temple, some hardened bits of tack, and just a tiny bit of leftovers he had purloined from the Holding. Having been trained in theory with the junior cadets, and trained for real in Goroch's missions, Kerchen had confidence in his ability to confront-or run away from-any bandits or other ills. The Night-demons, he was told, would not come for him if he is pious, so they didn't scare him much either. Any real fear he had was of being out of food...but this would be enough for the journey, so without too much restraint he pulled out a bit of bread and chewed slowly, trying to think of a way to impress Goroch by the time he got back. Maybe if he practiced his Valdemaran...

"You think just hide here you can, you stupid mutt," he said aloud, tentatively. No, that didn't seem quite right, and not just because it was the tongue of demons. "You think you just hide here can...You think you can just hide here." There. That sounded pretty good.

When he finally arrived at Goroch's quarters, he discovered how vital his Valdemaran would be, as Goroch now assigned him his most shocking mission yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey all! Thanks so much to the people watching this story! Despite the relatively slow pace...

This is chapter 2, and I wanted to make note of something...even if no one else cares, lol. In Exile's Honor, Misty refers to Companions as White Demons. In Storm's Warning, she refers to the Heralds as White Demons instead. Since this _is_ set during Exile's Honor, it only seems right to use the former.

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Goroch stroked his beard. He had, in fact, grown the beard for the express purpose of stroking it. It was a good way to occupy hands that could otherwise betray his emotions, and besides, he looked wiser, more sagely. Intimidation, subjugation were both important tools for operating within the Priesthood of Vkandis, and all the better if one could achieve them subconsciously through looks.

Though he kept his light demeanor, this was not going to be one of Goroch's better days. Today he was going to lose a valuable ace in his pocket. Well, one didn't dance as smoothly as Goroch did through the intrigues of the court of Sunpriests by dwelling in the past. One just smiled, moved on, and, of course, found replacements. Nevertheless, it was a pity.

He mused as he watched his protégé enter the complex as he was told-disguised as a servant, to enter the study on the pretext of lighting the candles, then changing guises so that the servant could not be seen directly reporting to Goroch.

Goroch was quite fond of Kerchen, really, and marveled at his luck for having found the worthy. After becoming aware of the attack on Bledhegn, he ventured out to the shepherd's tract just to make a show of caring. Unlike many of his colleagues, Goroch understood the value of the peasantry's opinions-they doubled as free spies if they thought highly of you, but were unnecessary enemies if they did not.

After Goroch entered the house-_a shack, really- _, the grubby child had burst out from his hiding place and cried at his feet. Goroch knew immediately that this boy would be valuable as an agent. The child trusted Goroch on the sole grounds that he was wearing a priest's robes-even a red robe, whose growing notoriety was undeniable-and thus demonstrated appallingly blind trust and faith. Trust was usually hard to obtain, so that had been a welcome change. The boy was young too, about seven, so therefore malleable. With all luck, he wouldn't even need to use coercion, which was a bonus in that this made the boy less susceptible to magic detection.

The boy was grateful to Goroch beyond any hope, and thus had trained diligently, obeyed dutifully, and never questioned Goroch's judgment. Marvelous. Well, there was that first time when he had the boy assassinate a real priest-an implacable rival who was unforgivably in Goroch's way-and the boy was visibly shaken, and dared to ask why he was targetting a Priest of Vkandis, rather than the usual petty heretics and thieves. Goroch didn't get mad-getting angry was often counterproductive-and simply explained that among those of the Priesthood, there were those that were false, who no longer followed His ways. The fact that this was true probably also helped. The boy had responded as well as anyone could have asked, and thus made his way up to be the best operative that Goroch had in his possession.

An already great boon had been made bigger when Goroch found the boy to exhibit a bit of Distance Eye. Actually, that should have been fairly obvious from how efficiently he had carried out his tasks. He made silent entries and exits whereas the best of the other operatives usually disturbed a horse or two. He was able to find a man and gather information days earlier than others would have. It could have been Clairvoyance, but thankfully it wasn't-that witchcraft was much harder to control, and Goroch would have had to send the boy into the Fires. Goroch did fear, however, that he may actually have had another, latent power that may have compromised his missions-not to mention Goroch's real intentions. Thus, he had taught the boy shielding, after assuring him that his power was not a witchcraft, but a gift. Not that persuading the waif had been hard, since Goroch's status of being his savior had done most of the work for him.

"Father Goroch," the boy greeted humbly, bowing in deference. Goroch eyed him thoughtfully. Kerchen's muscles were defined, from his training in the cadet academy. His stance was ready, from his numerous activities as a covert agent. His eyes were openly bright and admiring, from his affection towards Goroch, his surrogate father. The boy's body had matured in a way his mind had not.

"Kerchen, my boy," the priest cooed, beckoning Kerchen closer. Kerchen shyly moved forward, rubbing the back of his neck out of nervousness. Goroch clucked his tongue as he saw new welts on the boy's arm.

"They have beaten you again? Could you not protect yourself? Those _demons_-how dare they lay their hands on you!" Per usual, they started the kind of fretting father and obedient son conversation that they had every time he came back from a long mission. It was a bit repetitive, a bit boring really, but Goroch paid attention to every detail of the boy's, because this exchange indebted the boy more than even a coercion spell.

_I don't really need to do this this time...but ah well, habits are hard to break._ Good as his run was, Kerchen's usefulness had finally run out. He came back from his last assassination with the news that he was spotted by a servant. Now, Goroch did not make it to where he was by being sloppy, and was not about to risk his status now. He had little doubt that the servant's knowledge had already been extracted, in some form or another. If somehow, Goroch was instigated in the murder of that Krauslein, his life would be squished like a fly by others eyeing his power and possessions. Oh no, Goroch was only a mediocre mage and knew better than to assume any more. Krauslein had strong allies, strong in that it would take them little effort to off Goroch with such a golden moral impetus as killing Krauslein as an excuse. No, the boy must go, and with him the links to Krauslein's death. Well, really quite a few more deaths but those weren't relevant at the moment.

_Even though he has Distance Eye-what luck! The boy only needed to get rid of the servant, which would have been simple compared to offing the Master-class Krauslein. He doesn't kill a single soul he isn't told to, and now look where it's got him. _He had trained the boy too well to make a clean kill of him here. Thus, he was just going to have to get the boy killed himself.

"Kerchen," he said, summoning every intonation that was vaguely what affection sounded like. The boy responded immediately, looking up at Goroch as though _he_ was the one who made the sun rise and fall. "I have a task for you, and it will not be easy. Mind you, if you do not wish to take it..."

"I will!" He cried immediately. The bait never failed to work. However, being that it also implied suffering and possibly death ahead, its infallacy on this boy was sometimes alarming.

"Very well. Kerchen, I'm sure you've heard of Alberich, the Great Traitor." The boy immediately began to seethe, a dark expression clouding his usually bright face. Truly a boy who saw only in the blackest of blacks and the whitest of whites. "Already, our intelligence on Valdemar has dwindled, and the man continues to impede our ability to mete justice on the Demon-Riders. Kerchen, Vkandis has shown us that the man has not only helped, but _become _one of the Demon-Riders." The boy was visibly surprised. If only he knew what was coming next. "The Great Traitor resides in the heart of the country of boundless sin, a city they call Haven," Goroch paused. "And I need you to go there to kill him."

The boy was shocked, as the priest expected. This mission was near suicide and he knew it-well, Goroch knew it really _was _suicide, that's why he was doing this in the first place. The priest added some trite phrases about how it was dangerous, how he was worried, how Kerchen could still back out if he pleased, all while knowing these attempts to dissuade him would only strengthen his sense of duty.

"I'll do it," the boy croaked, trying to sound braver than he felt. "On-on my honor." Despite the stuttering, Goroch knew him well enough to know that after that phrase, the boy might as well have been _geas_-bound. Where did that boy pick up the word honor, anyway? Was it with his precious Lugard? The Academy, perhaps? It was a meaningless word that Goroch never used nor believed in.

_Ah well. Most importantly, it means something to him._ "Kerchen, my boy-my dear, noble, faithful boy. May Vkandis Sunlord, giver of light, bless your heart and your soul." Goroch petted his puppy of a protégé, loaded him up with glowing praises that left the boy beaming like the sun itself, and then, after much displaying of affection and how he would miss the boy, sent him off to bed. The priest had already assembled a generous traveling pack for the boy-very generous, for, if he didn't show he fully supported the endeavor, he may just come back...

_I should use a coercion spell on him. If he were to switch sides or get carried off and brainwashed by a white horse like that Sunsguard captain did, that _just might_ come back to haunt me. It's not as though Valdemar is full of demons-after all, all the demons in Karse _are_ summoned by Sunpriests._ That never failed to amuse Goroch._ I should take measures to prevent Kerchen from being seduced by them. Now, when he is sleeping, would be the perfect time._

But in the end, as Goroch watched the boy load his heavy sacks onto a mule from his window, the priest realized that, after he had drawn that conclusion, he had instead simply retired to bed himself. Goroch stroked his beard. He couldn't even use the excuse of being tired-this morning, he could have instigated the spell while giving the boy a final hug. He had not acted on his conclusion...because he did not _want_ to act. Yes, he hadn't bothered to coerce the boy, simply because he was inordinately proud of the fact that he hadn't yet needed to do so-and why break that pattern now? No, Kerchen would not turn on Goroch, would not turn on Karse, land of Vkandis, Lord of Light. The boy would rather die than turn traitor, and that end was exactly Goroch's intention. As far as he was concerned, the boy Kerchen was already dead.

A lump rose in his throat. This perplexed Goroch, who could not identify the reason for this reaction. Goroch swallowed it, and then slowly turned a smile on his lips. It was time to move on, and Goroch was a master of moving on.

Next on the agenda were the Tedrels. What a fascinating folk.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey all!

Thanks for following this story! I'm assuming this because I'm writing this in the third chapter..  
Super thanks to everyone who's reviewed and tagged this story! You guys know you're all my firsts, and that makes you all super special :)

I also just discovered how to get single line breaks. Unfortunately the files still default to making every break a double break...but it looks ok, so I guess I won't bother fixing them. Maybe it'd be too much blocks-of-text if I did anyway...alright I digress.

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**Chapter 3**

Alberich retired to his quarters after cleaning up the salle. _That_ business was almost as tiring as training the students. Despite that Dethor had made it clear how he felt about dropping weapons left and right-an attitude that Alberich himself shared-the students continued to abandon their weapons the instant they heard the first ring of the bell.

_:I daresay they've been running off faster since you've arrived.:_

_:At least they are getting some good sprinting practice,: _Alberich retorted, taking off his Greys. He was a little worn but hadn't broken into a real sweat. Nevertheless, Alberich planned to take a shower before dinner arrived. The showering room was a Valdemaran invention that Alberich had quite taken to-it was certainly better than those icy, rocky streams he used to make do with in the field more than once. Certainly, sometimes a bath would seem more appealing, but there was something to be said about the efficiency of the shower.

Kantor wasn't fooled by Alberich's elaborate focus on being clean.

_:You are uneasy.: _Kantor often had no need to guess Alberich's emotions, but the idea wasn't as alarming as it once was. Despite Kantor's genuine concern, Alberich heard a slight chuckle. _:Even after such a satisfying training session? After today, I would even hazard that the brutal Weapons Second has thoroughly beaten the evil Karsite Trainee.: _The corners of Alberich's mouth twitched upward. Tammas and Jehan hadn't been the only Trainees overly smug about their abilities, and today Alberich had had the pleasure of showing three others what the dirt of the salle grounds tasted like. By the end, poor Trainee Harrow couldn't look at a stave without blanching. He had, however, admirably refrained from rubbing his sore rear.

Kantor feigned dismay. _:Chosen, you're starting to sound like a bully.:_

_:At least they are not measuring the length of the ground with their blood.: _And therein lay the real satisfaction of his duty as Weapons Second.

But not to digress, Kantor had divined correctly; there had been a nagging worry that Alberich had carried with him the whole day. _:It is the reports from the agent of the Lord Martial last night.: _An agent had returned from Karse-and whenever this happened, Dethor and Talamir seemed to breathe a sigh of relief-and had imparted the information that the Son of the Sun was loudly denouncing Alberich, giving him the venerable title of the Great Traitor. That this name was apparently starting to take off among the laity was not filling Alberich with much joy. Additionally, the hope that the Council might trust the Karsite Trainee a little more after seeing him so publicly castigated in Karse was dashed before breakfast, so there wasn't really a silver lining to this cloud.

_:Why, I didn't know that you were so sensitive to namecalling,: _Kantor remarked dryly. _:Could it be because it's not Valdemaran runts but Karsite children that are hating you now?: _Not long ago, this comment would have offended Alberich. However, Kantor's faith in his Chosen was so firmly engrained in Alberich's mind that now it only inspired a scoff.

_:Hardly,: _Alberich replied tartly, though not without a moment's pause as he considered the idea of being called a traitor of Karse. _:It is true, after all, that I have given Valdemar information on what I know of Karsite spies. I'm surprised they aren't burning me in effigy yet.:_

_:Your Sunpriests __do__ like burning things, don't they?: _Alberich chose not to respond to that.

_:Unfortunately, though I may be safe from the Fires now, a knife will kill me just as easily as it would before. With my newfound notoriety, I only wonder when they will start sending assassins after me.: _And Alberich was hardly naïve enough to think that the Sunpriests would not attribute their failing intel on Valdemar to Alberich's presence. No, now that everyone in Karse knew where to point their fingers, it was only a matter of time before he had trouble knocking on his door-or shooting at him through his window.

_:They'll have to get through _me _first,: _Kantor stated firmly. Alberich felt his uneasiness wash away with warm gratitude.

But the feeling of solidarity soon took on a tinge of dry humor. _:And besides, not to be rude but your country's way of treating all Valdemarans as demons sticks out like a sore thumb. The chances of a Karsite assassin making his way to even Haven is slim at best.:_

Kerchen looked around warily.

_All of them could be demons_, he thought, feeling nervousness permeate his every bone. _There's no way I could defend myself from a horde of demons._ He had made his way to the Demon Capital well enough-he had walked and camped with his mule for a few days before hitchhiking in the back of a vegetable wagon. He had given up his mule to the farmer in payment for letting him ride along all the way to Haven; although Kerchen had hesitated about giving up the trusty mule to a Valdemaran, he saw that the farmer's horses seemed well kept, which set his mind at ease.

_At least about the mule..._

Kerchen was surrounded by people-_no, demons-_and it was taking a toll on his nerves. Goroch's quarters were in a small town, and Bledhegn was even smaller than that one. Here, even the air seemed to be thick with people, people's voices, people's breaths-

_-people who are heretics, sinners, witches, demons-_ Kerchen could have continued that line of thought, but it wasn't helping him get a grip on himself. He was using all his training as an agent to hide his fear of being pitted in the center of a capital of demons, and that effort would be for nothing if he kept imagining every Valdemaran he saw descending upon him, eating him alive-

_No, no. Think Kerchen. You've gone against Master-class mages when you yourself have no offensive magic at all. Those mages wouldn't have even needed to "descend upon you" in order to kill you, but you survived them anyway. You did that by being wary but calm, _not_ by panicking. Just calm down and think._

The reasoning was sound, but it was easier said than done. Since he had ridden with a farmer trying to sell his goods, it was obvious that he would be dropped in the marketplace. Kerchen, however, hadn't realized that the marketplace would be so packed, so bustling; he couldn't even figure out where it ended. He was surrounded by stands, lined top to bottom with any number of goods, encased in canopies of various colors, packed so tightly the whole scene could have been a fluid mosaic. He was surrounded by Valdemarans, people with no morals, and any number of things could happen to him without him even realizing it.

_I have to guard my packs_, Kerchen thought suddenly, his grip tightening on the cloth sacks that were wrapped twice over. Goroch had assembled a generous traveling pack, but now there was only enough to last Kerchen three days at best-hardly enough to figure out how to insinuate himself past three more sets of walls and wait for an opening at the Great Traitor. He had planned to find work to do, but if that didn't work out, he would simply have to use the coins he had. That would, of course, be a last resort, as the coins he earned from the Holderkin were few, and the others might be recognized as Karsite. Judging from the size of the marketplace, his chances of finding a temporary employer seemed good, but Kerchen realized he hadn't a clue on how to tell demons apart from humans. If there were any of the latter. He eyed every Valdemaran around him, trying to divine their motives.

_That man over there, calling out for me to buy his cabbage-what if he's noticed I'm not a demon and is going to poison me with his innocuous looking vegetables? _Kerchen eyed the cabbage, but its rotund surface was not giving him any hint of foul play. He turned his head to a woman selling tomatoes, and wondered if the real trick was there, that the man was trying to get him fat so he could be eaten by that woman at night-

_This is stupid_, Kerchen's logical side protested loudly. _Even in Bledhegn, people sell vegetables like this. If they did it any other way, that would be even more suspect! Besides, your task isn't to rat out every single demon residing in Haven, only the Great Traitor. You're wasting your energy by suspecting every person you see-which is a lot of people. Frankly at this rate, you'll be here all day._

Yes yes, that was all true-but it was hard not to think about when every time Kerchen turned, it seemed even more people were there. What if it didn't just seem like they were multiplying, but actually _were_? What if demons could bud off from themselves, spawning like witchgrass, and they were actually constructing a solid wall of demons around him?

Kerchen tried not to think about the implications of that. Nobody was making any overtly hostile moves toward him yet, and that was all he had to work with. Nevertheless, that was enough to keep Kerchen's mind occupied.

_That guy just bumped into me. Was he trying to steal something? It's lucky that the only things I have on me are practically glued to me-wait, that person is handing over a large bolt of cloth over-why is it so large? What if it's concealing a body, or a-a dangerous, magicked demonic weapon-and that guy, looking through that magnifying glass. Perhaps it's not a magnifying glass at all, but a scrying glass-one that sees that I'm from Karse, and now he'll be thinking to kill me when I'm alone. Or that kid over there, trying to sneak off with that woman's fruit, what if he's actually trying to steal..._

Kerchen blinked, as he finally stumbled upon something that wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Forget _ulterior _motives-that was exactly what the boy was doing. The seller, a plump, elderly woman whose face was suffused with laugh lines, was prudently sorting her apples on the other side of her stand and seemed oblivious to the sandy haired whelp stuffing his ragged clothes full of fruit and vegetables. He wasn't doing so in a very inconspicuous manner, but ironically with this many people it was harder to spot someone in the act. If one was looking at all, however, his pilfering seemed downright flagrant. Kerchen was surprised the woman hadn't noticed yet, even if she was watching the other side of the stand. One of Kerchen's old mantras suddenly surfaced in his mind.

_This is wrong. To let wrong things happen is equally wrong._ With such an ostentatious display of thieving in front of him, his logical side couldn't intervene before Kerchen found himself directly behind the boy, ready to talk him down.

"_Sunlord_, what do you think you're doing?" he accused, a little taken aback by how much he sounded like Werda. As the boy jolted around, looking wildly at Kerchen, Kerchen silently cursed at his slip-up and was glad that the boy apparently didn't understand the Karsite word for Sunlord. His logical side began to point out that he was compromising his mission by acting so overtly, but the damage was already done, so he might as well act on what he felt was right. He continued before the boy had a chance to reflect on exactly what language Kerchen had started with. "Stealing is a-a _bad thing_, and you have some nerve to be doing so in broad daylight!" Werda had not yet used a word equivalent to the word 'sin,' and Kerchen so had to substitute it with something that was not nearly as damning. Feeling this was inadequate, Kerchen let out a single expletive that Werda sometimes used, and had the satisfaction of seeing the thief's face flit an indignant anger. So Werda was as verbally colorful as Kerchen had thought! The thief opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the seller herself.

"Now, what's all this commotion about?" She demanded, and the boy immediately shoved Kerchen out of the way and bolted off through the crowd. Kerchen started to follow him but was stopped by the woman herself. Kerchen turned around, vaguely worried that his Karsite accent had been discovered, but encountered a broad, if a little ironic, smile. She looked him up and down, and Kerchen was struck by the notion that she found something about him very funny.

"Forget that boy, little one-you look like you could do with some thievin' yourself!" The festive tone in her voice sounded as though this was actually what she wanted him to do. Kerchen had to blink twice at this. He could see Valdemarans having no qualms about stealing, but having no qualms about being stolen _from_? The woman laughed heartily, and something inside Kerchen stirred in recognition. "That child? Oh, he comes around once a week but is hardly hurtin' my business! Even when they aren't eaten, fruit will rot, you know. He might as well save a few here and there from the garbage by puttin' them in his little belly."

"But..." Kerchen began, forgetting to think about what words should follow that. The woman seemed to misinterpret something.

"Oh, I can't call him out and start _givin'_ him my wares, Havens no! Before I'd know it, I'd have half the waifs in town comin' at me-and my business would be sure hurtin' _then_!" Her face crinkled into a bright smile. "And to be honest, it's funny to me to have that little chick think he's becomin' a skilled swiper."

"But it's wrong to steal," Kerchen pointed out, flatly. Though he thought this obvious axiom was absolute, he felt the gravity of the words was lost. The woman let out a generous laugh again, and Kerchen was amazed by how vigorous she sounded. Her open, warm mannerisms were alerting Kerchen to something about her, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"You mustn't be from these parts. Say little one, where are you from?"

"The Holderkin in the south, ma'am," Kerchen immediately replied. The woman raised an eyebrow, and for a moment Kerchen worried that she had picked up that his accent wasn't entirely Holderkin. Luckily, she ended up raising an issue that was a bit easier to address.

"In those clothes?" Kerchen understood her incredulity, as he was wearing Karsite clothes, the Holder clothes having gotten too ragged over the course of the long trip. In Karse, even the lowest peasants had a touch of bright red or yellow or decorative black, and he wasn't sure if there was anything the Holderkin had that couldn't be described as either grey or brown. In contrast, Kerchen was dressed more brightly than most of the marketplace. Nevertheless, he had prepared well for this, and fortunately the grammar along with it.

"That's a little why-I didn't fit in, see, didn't always do what they wanted-so I made my way up here, ma'am. Figured it'd be a good fresh start."

"So you ran away?"

"No ma'am, they rather shooed me away." Kerchen didn't feel too guilty about this fib, because it was entirely something the Holderkin would do to a disobedient son-a disobedient daughter, however, would not have gotten off so lightly. The woman pursed her generous lips disapprovingly. She was evidently displeased with the idea of abandoning a child to fortune like that and looked at him thoughtfully. Seeing her look of concern, a look of concern for _him_, Kerchen was finally able to pinpoint who she resembled and had to stop his mouth from hanging open.

_Lugard._

"Say, little one," She started slowly, a gleam in her hazel eye that told him she had thought of something very clever, "as you can see, I'm gettin' on in years. All these crates of fruit and veggies are so very hard for an old woman like me to carry everyday. I see that you haven't a copper on you-" Kerchen flushed, wondering if he looked that grubby- "and it don't seem like you're goin' to be stealin' from me anytime soon. If you'd like, how 'bout you work with me for a few moons as a helpin' hand, 'til you can find a job for yourself?" She gave an encouraging smile again, and now Kerchen found the resemblance unmistakable.

_Lugard. Less stern, less hard-but her mannerisms are similar to his-no, almost exactly the same!_

"I can't give you much in way of payment, but I'll give you lodgin' and meals. How's that sound, little one?"

Before Kerchen could even think about Valdemar and its witches and demons, he found his mouth scrambling to accept the offer of this Valdemaran woman who laughed like his beloved Lugard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Lugard's weathered face was unusually panicked._

_"Hide here," he whispered urgently, prying the old floorboard loose with his strong hands. Kerchen glanced into the dark, dank hole with fear._

_"It's dark, I don't want to-what's down there?" he stuttered, only able to make out handfuls of cobweb in the slight moonlight. Kerchen had only seen Lugard use it to store some pickling jars or dried meats in the winter, and couldn't imagine why he was being put down there-was this punishment? What did he do wrong?_

_"Anything's better than up here, my boy," Lugard said firmly, and before Kerchen could protest any further, threw him down into the wretched hole. "Stay quiet, Kerchen, and don't move."_

_Before he could say anything else, the door to the house smashed in, and throaty, barbaric howls of glee filled the house. Lugard slammed the floorboard back into place, and Kerchen could hear his footsteps pacing off._

Bandits. _He was only seven, but he understood what was happening. His feet seemed glued in place, his knees completely useless, and his hands busy keeping his mouth from whimpering. He could hear Lugard from the other room._

_"Take what you want," he heard, "take anything in this house." There was a pause, and then a low chuckle._

_"Oh? Well don't mind if I do," an amused bass voice replied. It was a charming voice that exuded virility, marred only by its lack of warmth. Right after, Kerchen heard a dull thud, and a choked gasp that told him that sound was Lugard being thrown to the floor-_

Kerchen jolted up from his restless slumber, sweating from head to toe. That dream-he had it often enough, but so vividly-

_It must be because I'm staying with Grandma Magdee_, he thought, referring to her by her preferred title. Yes, her good humor, her readiness to forgive any mistake, her open laugh that shook her whole body, it had all reminded him terribly of Lugard. _Lugard. _A wound that Kerchen thought had finally begun to heal was ripped back open, and he couldn't stop himself from completing the nightmare.

_"I suppose your life is fair game, eh? Old man, you thought we came here just to rob you?" A chorus of laughter. The voice was coming closer, and the sounds of struggling as well. Kerchen didn't even dare to breathe. "For what, a few coppers? If we could get that much out of you, I'd say you were richer than I'd thought! We came to have fun, old man. Though we can't get much outta you, but we were passing by and, well, why not?" There was a deep chuckle, as though he was acting on this whim with relative indifference, and that none of this actually meant a thing to him._

_They hit him, again, and again-they lifted him up and threw him back down with a sickening crack, right above the hiding place. The gasps of pain were so close, and only terror stopped the boy from screaming. He felt Lugard's warm blood seeping through the floorboard onto his knees-he shut his eyes, waiting for the nightmare to be over, waiting to wake up but there was no reprieve. Another thud-_

Kerchen bolted right out of his bed as he heard a sound in the next room. Without thinking, he dashed out of the room as fast as his weak legs could carry him and slammed open the door-

He saw the elderly woman, Grandma Magdee, eyeing him with surprise, bent over a dropped basket of clothes. Her face puckered questioningly.

"Little one, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Kerchen willed his heart to stop pounding and tried weakly to explain.

"A b-bad dream it was," he stammered, flushing. A boy his age running about in fear from a nightmare seemed silly, even if the nightmare was Lugard's death. He wasn't even sure why he had run in the first place. "Alright you are-I am, I mean-" Kerchen tried to reassure Grandma Magdee that he was perfectly fine and sane, but he could tell he wasn't being particularly convincing.

"It looks like more than a bad dream, little one. Come, sit here," she gestured, pulling out a wooden chair from the dinner table. Kerchen took it obediently as she gathered items for something of an after supper tea. After setting a covered pot of water over the fire, she sat herself down next to Kerchen, regarding him with a tenderness Kerchen supposed was what one meant by the word motherly. There was a long pause.

"Little one, when I first took you in, I was a bit-skeptical," she said, without any of her usual hand gesturing. "I don't take in kids all the time-otherwise I'd be knee deep in the little runts!" Kerchen figured this was supposed this was to lighten the mood, and tried his best to pretend like her ploy had worked. "And I suspected you for a good time. Kerchen, little one, the reason why I took you in was because you seemed scared and lost, and your whole body was covered in scars-a mother like me couldn't possibly ignore a child so obviously abused." She looked at him earnestly, and her open expression seemed to pry at Kerchen's heart. "Little one, what has scared you?"

_After what seemed like days, the boy finally pried open the floorboard with shaking hands. The dawn had finally arrived, and the golden rays of the sun slowly creeped into the house, its fingers searching further and further but finding only blood. Kerchen pulled himself out of the hole, not daring to look at where he knew Lugard to be until he was solidly on the floor. If he did, he would surely fall right back into the hole and decide never to come out again-_

Kerchen wanted to tell her a half truth, that he had received many scars from the Holderkin, but his conscience clutched at his throat. How could he mislead this woman, who took him in for no reason other than that she was worried about him? How could he lie to a woman that so resembled the man who was as important to him as the Sunlord-

"I was brought up by a man named Lugard," Kerchen started, slowly. Everything seemed to spill out. He told her about how kind he was, how he taught Kerchen his living but wished the boy to become a greater man than he, how he laughed with joy at everything the little Kerchen did to please him, whether it worked or was a disaster, and, when finally Kerchen exhausted the things he loved most about Lugard, how the great-hearted man had died. He could feel tears trying to burst out with every word but held them back as much as he could-Kerchen realized that somehow, between when he had been taken in by Sunpriest Goroch and now, that he had attributed deep shame to crying. The Karsite boy could see Magdee trying to soothe him, trying to tell him to "let it all out," but she gave up those abortive efforts when it seemed that he was getting better without having to sob rivers.

"Your father was a wonderful man," she said quietly. Yes, Lugard was his father-his only father, and he was more wonderful than Kerchen, the cowardly boy that hid in the floor, deserved. Kerchen could only take pride in the fact that ever since, he had never done anything that a coward would have.

There was a long moment of silence, and the boy felt odd, having burst out his worst nightmare to this Valdemaran woman. It was something like letting loose a deep secret that was actually rather irrelevant, and now wondering what thread of conversation should be picked up instead. It was only after Grandma Magdee served them both tea that the silence was broken.

"You know," she said, with a lighter tone, "that does explain why you have such an interestin' accent. So you're Karsite, then!" Kerchen tensed, realizing he had let that fact slip during his tale. Even though he'd consciously omitted how devout Lugard was- "And then to have ended up with the Holderkin. Little one, you didn't have any luck at all! There isn't much on this side of the border worse than those folk." She chuckled, and sipped her tea. Something about the last sentence struck him as odd, but he ignored it, following suit with his own cup. Grandma Magdee was terribly fond of herbal teas and seemed to brew some every chance she got. "Don't worry, little one, your secret is safe with me-not many people up here would know a Karsite accent, I reckon." From his nightly prowls of the city, Kerchen had had that impression too, but to hear it confirmed was reassuring all the same.

"So you thought Holderkin I wasn't from the beginning," he said, and she laughed.

"Why, little one, there isn't anywhere in Valdemar that would put verbs at the end of a sentence!" she said, as if no one in the world would do that either. "In truth, you kept pretty good control of that in it the beginnin', but your accent surely was a foreign one as well." Then he must have seemed very suspicious after he opened his mouth, scars or no! Kerchen regarded Grandma Magdee with an inquisitive look, and the elderly woman seemed to interpret his look correctly this time. "Oh little one, but that hardly mattered. The first thing you used your mouth for was to stop a thief. Why, you even lectured him like a stern old woman-" and she paused there to laugh. "Oh, and your face when you said stealing was wrong-" And she finished that with laughter too. Kerchen was still unable to see the humor in this. Unfortunately, his uncomprehending expression only made matters worse.

"You know, little one," she said, checking her tea leaves with a smile still on her face, "before you came along, I was thinkin' about takin' in that weekly thief since I needed a second pair of hands, but he'd surely rob me blind!" She eyed him, who was still a little ruffled from her previous gale of laughter. "Though I suppose all I needed was a kid to thrash around!" She chuckled again, but there was a subdued tone underneath. It occurred to Kerchen that Grandma Magdee, who lived with neither husband nor children for decades, must have been very lonely, and he wondered if this, too, was something Magdee and Lugard had in common.

_With shaking hands that were numb from strain, the boy finally placed Lugard into the fresh grave. The boy had tried his best to clean the body up, making it look more like the strong, whole man that the shepherd had been. But he had failed; the man's abused body resembled at best an orderly assortment of broken branches. He took a final look at the face he had loved. It was weathered, as it had always been, but the signs of pain seemed to be deeply etched into the olive brown surface. The devout and benevolent man had spent his last moments in agony-and yet, as he committed Lugard's face to memory one last time, Kerchen discovered that the man had died with a smile on his face, and that it would forever be a mystery why._

* * *

Hey all!

So I figured you might be sick of seeing these hey all and thanks guys at the top of each chapter so I put it down here for a change of pace. Sorry I was a bit late in updating this time. I had actually written the whole chapter in Magdee's POV, but it just didn't work as well.. the flashback was also supposed to be half as long so I could fit the next part in, but uh that didn't happen either.

It also occurred to me that the synopsis gives the impression that this story is about a more mature sellsword who's already infiltrated and is grudgingly agreeing with Valdemarans. Instead I delivered a story about an emotionally vulnerable teenager who was sent on a wild goose chase (or as Misty would say, chasing a hare). Sorry to anyone who was disappointed in this development, I'll think about what I should do with that synopsis...

Thanks again for reading this everyone, and any comments are welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all!

This chapter turned out pretty long, but I actually refrained from making it much longer so that the plot could move on.

I've finally introduced Dieder (if any avid profile watchers were wondering about him), but he won't be getting that much exposition, since mostly all he does is stall the real plot...

Does anyone else think Kantor would speak with a British accent? It seems to fit him so well..

Thanks for following! Any feedback is appreciated :)

* * *

Kerchen returned from his nightly prowl, slipping into his room without so much as a creak. Grandma Magdee certainly must be wondering why Kerchen slept most the day, and the answer was, of course, that he never slept when she did. It had been about a moon since he told Magdee the story of Lugard, and ever since, he had been trying his best not to be lured into her lifestyle.

Not that Kerchen suspected any witchcraft of coercion involved. True, at first, he had been wary of the Valdemaran, checking the house from top to bottom for any signs of evil. He found nothing, and after a week or so concluded that she was no demon, simply a human making a living, who just so happened to live in a forsaken land. If you thought about it-of course there were regular people living in Valdemar! It was too big of a land to be inhabited by only witches and demons. That this idea had not occurred to him earlier was rather perplexing.

No, Kerchen was being lulled into what he and Lugard had once shared, an unremarkable but peaceful living. A mundane living that was denied to Kerchen, who still needed to expiate himself for having been an utter coward when his adoptive father needed him the most.

_I couldn't have done anything, _Kerchen reminded himself, closing the window he had squeezed through. _But that wasn't why I didn't help him. _There was no point in euphemizing-he didn't move because he had been scared for himself.

But he had been given the chance to be redeemed, Sunpriest Goroch said, by killing the Great Traitor. Therefore, no matter how tempted he was by the halcyon life offered to him, Kerchen would not stray from his mission. Putting himself into a cool mindset that he used for missions, he drew a breath and reviewed his facts.

The Collegium, which housed all the Demon-Riders and not so incidentally the Great Traitor, was walled and guarded very well, for the Collegium housed also the Palace. Kerchen had scouted out the complex, and it was, first and foremost, huge. If he tried his usual methods of scaling the wall or taking out guards, it would be impossible for him to find the target and then find an opening to take out the target before he was caught. No, somehow he had to get himself past the guards right under their noses, some kind of disguise. After one particularly bad day, Grandma Magdee had offered to take him to a MindHealer in the Collegium grounds, but Kerchen knew this was not a viable option. First, as a patient he'd surely be watched over, and second, there was nothing wrong with grieving over Lugard's death. Why would he want to move on, forgetting how precious Lugard had been to him? It wasn't right, wasn't fair to Lugard-and leave it to Valdemar to think of such a treacherous idea. Those "MindHealers" were probably witches brainwashing innocents like Grandma Magdee-

He heard a thud and shuffling from the next room-the storage room. Relapsing into his work mindset, Kerchen pulled out his knife-a small but fine work that Goroch had gifted him, and stalked quietly into the hallway. Nothing good came at this hour, and it didn't take a Sunpriest to conclude this was likely a thief. He put his ear to the door, listening for sounds. Whoever it was was certainly an amateur. He waited for the footsteps to move away, and then flung the door open and charged in, knife before him.

There was a gasp, as apples dropped and rolled in every direction. The only thing that stopped Kerchen from piercing the thief's chest through was that the thief's chest was astonishingly thin, an emaciated version of a boy's frame. Kerchen's eyes flicked up at the thief's face, and even in the poor lighting, he was able to identify him as being none other than the boy he had met when he first entered the Demon Capital.

"What are you doing?" Kerchen growled, wondering how the boy had lost that much weight in a scant two or three moons. Thin or not, the boy seemed indignant.

"'ey you! Pointin' a knife at m'throat like I was sum killer or sumthin'! Bloody 'ell! I cud git bloody 'urt! Ye'd do gud t'be more careful, ya bloody fool!" The Karsite assassin paused, as this was not exactly the response he had expected. "I'm human too, y'know! I bleed too! Ain't nobody shud wave that thing 'round lik'a toy at me!" Kerchen cocked his head, not understanding where this boy's arrogance nor his accent came from. The boy seemed to realize at least the former, because he replaced his indignant look with a pleading face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-I dunno 'oo y'are really, but please, please-y'gotta lemme take a couple, only a couple, I ain't gonna do it agin-"

"Stealing is wrong," Kerchen stated coldly. The boy continued to babble.

"Ye dun unn'erstan'! My ma's sick-she's sick real bad, and all I kin buy's rotten scraps-she eat anymore uv 'at, she ain't gonna git better-" He continued, but finally Kerchen stopped him.

"Enough," Kerchen said, pulling back his knife. This Valdemaran was trying to give him the slip, and Kerchen still had half a mind to kill him on the spot. There was no doubt that this thief had come all the way to Magdee's specifically because he still thought she was a half blind old lady that couldn't even see him stealing right off her stand. Nevertheless, it was true that compared to before, the boy was now wasting away to almost nothing. Since he was only a child, it was only right to give him some leniency. Besides, Kerchen learned a thing or two about subtlety in his previous missions, and surely Grandma Magdee would notice blood all over her fruit...

The boy was oblivious to Kerchen's mental assessment of him and waited fretfully for Kerchen to say something else. He obliged. "Need all of this, we do not-take some, you may." Even with the scant moonlight, the boy's face lit up like the sun, and he babbled out a profusive thanks.

"Thank you-thank ye so much-I-" He was choked up with tears, and Kerchen found himself embarrassed to be witnessing this emotional deluge, faked or not. He had had the impression that the Valdemarans were very open with their feelings, but this was more than he had imagined. Awkwardly, he left the boy to his own devices and reentered his room-a room that had once housed Magdee's children, and he wasn't sure what he thought of that. In any case, this was no time to be pondering his feelings, as he was determined to follow the boy. If he indeed split what he took with an ill mother-well, Kerchen couldn't blame the boy for thinking he was doing the right thing. If he lied...

But in the end, Kerchen had been wrong. Very, very wrong. The Valdemaran boy had scampered back, making a beeline to his home, and Kerchen was just glad he didn't live in more unsavory parts of the capital because someone so obviously _not_ suspicious would certainly be killed. Upon arriving home, the boy went straight to his mother, who was indeed feeble and bedridden, but didn't look much worse than the boy himself. The thief woke his mother with a tenderness Kerchen couldn't have guessed was under that arrogance, and took care of all of her needs-her meals, her cold towel, even her bedpan- and ended the night by her bedside.

_Forget sharing-the boy didn't eat even an apple peel!_ Kerchen thought, bewildered. He kept waiting, waiting for the Valdemaran boy to do something, anything ill-natured, but increasingly he felt ashamed of _himself_ as the boy repeatedly did nothing short of blameless. This was against everything he had learned about Valdemarans...

_No, Valdemaran witches and demons. A thief he is, but he is surely human like Grandma Magdee._ But did that make it right to steal? Kerchen brooded over this. He had always believed that some things were right and some were wrong, and that these facts were irrevocable. If the boy had stolen for himself, that would be unacceptable. But for his ill mother-if it had been Lugard? _A man that was worth ten of me-_

Kerchen had never believed in doing wrong things in the name of good, but this was the only conclusion he could make, as he watched the boy huddle by his mother's bedside to sleep. _There is no Sunlord to watch over the Valdemarans, so perhaps they have been forced to resort to unscrupulous means to do what they think is the right thing, _Kerchen reasoned, half pitying the boy and half full of pride for the care Vkandis Sunlord had given to Karse. He grimaced. If this were Karse, surely Sunpriest Goroch would have helped this boy! No, the White Demons in the castle have seized the people by their hearts and were forcing them to be corrupted. This thief, though arrogant, was choosing the only right option available to him.

And Kerchen found himself struck by a strange urge to get to know the boy.

* * *

Grandma Magdee gazed at her now lively dinner table with delight mitigated with perplexion.

"I gotta talk a lil' rougher, see, 'cause shady people ain't gonna target you as much if they think yer from the pits yerself," the sandy-haired week thief Dieder elaborated, his hands weaving ostentatiously as if he were delivering a lecture to a student. Kerchen nodded solemnly, and then was struck by some notion.

"So talk correct you can!" He observed. "Well, sort of correct." Dieder tried to growl, but had to stop to swallow his mouthful of bread first.

"Hey you! I dun wanna hear that from you, Mr. I-talk-backwards!" Kerchen pursed his lips-his version of a pout.

"I didn't live anywhere near here," he pointed out slowly, which Magdee recognized as a sign of him paying attention to his grammar. "But you're surrounded by people that don't talk like you at all."

"Hey, I bloody choose how I bloody talk! An' I know how t' bloody talk!" Kerchen rolled his eyes.

"Bloody this, bloody that-if you're trying to sound tough, you could try a little harder, you whelp!"

"Hey you-and why's it that half the time you sound like a woman with a bloody stick up her rear?" Kerchen didn't follow that up with anything. Grandma Magdee had noticed the same about Kerchen-occasionally, he would imitate the intonations of a scolding housekeeper. This rather startled her the first time, but it appeared that the boy simply didn't know any other way to speak.

_He was originally from Karse_, Magdee reasoned, _perhaps he's just repeating phrases he had heard with the Holderkin, pitches and all_. That sounded plausible. It also explained why his vocabulary mostly pertained to housework. And apparently curses. Setting down dinner-a casserole of potatoes and green beans-she beamed at the two boys sitting with her at the dinner table. Being with bright eyed youngsters again made Grandma Magdee feel decades younger. It had been many years since her youngest son Layden had gone out to join the Guard, and she missed the racket of some rowdy children. It was unfortunate that he had been assigned out on the Border, because since her eldest son had died, there wasn't anyone near Haven to visit her anymore. Thinking about Layden, she imagined introducing Kerchen to him with a chuckle. Her son would be surprised to hear that there was a Karsite who wasn't a complete monster, let alone one as sweet and tractable as that one!

She eyed the fledgling chick, who was looking much better these days than before, and wondered how he had convinced Kerchen, with a more defined and rigid moral compass than perhaps even the Heralds, that he was a righteous being. Grandma Magdee had been rather wary of inviting him to dinner, but Kerchen's seal of approval was probably as good as any Truth Spell, and so the former thief had been regularly attending their dinners-and as compensation, Magdee's house was almost entirely free of dust. She sincerely wished she could afford to take them both in, but she hadn't the resources. Well, she needn't worry too much, for when Dieder's mother was well enough to go back to work as a seamstress, he would be fine, and a sharp and diligent boy like Kerchen would certainly be taken in as an apprentice sooner or later. Oh, she would miss them when they left her..

"'Ey, why y'ain'f eatin'?" Dieder eyed Kerchen inquisitively through mouthfuls of the casserole. Kerchen, who had taken a moment to stare solemnly at his portion, looked askance at the thief's full but entirely open mouth with disgust.

"I'm not a barbarian," he scowled, and took up his cutlery very deliberately.

"Y'ain't a barbarian, yer a slowpoke!"

"Hey, watch what you say!"

_Oh, teenage friendships, they're so lovely, _Magdee chuckled, sitting back in her chair. She was rather thankful for the week thief-_No, Dieder. No need to call him the week thief now that I know his name_-for what he had done for Kerchen. Kerchen tended to act either too young or too old for his age, and it had been somewhat disconcerting. Seeing him riled up like a stubborn, cheeky, above all _normal_ boy was a relief. _And he seems t'be enjoyin' himself_, she thought, watching the thief articulate some story of his with much embellishment and gesticulations, which the Karsite boy followed with interest, if not always comprehension. To give credit where it was due, the thief also seemed to notice Kerchen's unusual sobriety, and was always deliberately trying to elicit an active response from the little one.

"An' he looks at me, like he's all that, sayin' I looked like a dump, kicks me out in high daylight!" he continued, angrily making a fist, "Who's he think he is? Well, I show'd 'im what's what-ain't nothin' easier than gettin' yer revenge on a summun that sells dyes. 'e was well t'do, but ain't rich 'nough fer a mirror. Walked aroun' all the next day with pink 'n purple scribbles on 'is face, an' hell if he had any leather that wasn' pink!" He then threw his head back and summoned a sinister laugh. _Well, I suppose it also helps he's naturally loud and arrogant.._

"So you do have strong dyes here," Kerchen noted, looking at his own deep indigo tunic. The other boy raised an eyebrow.

"Yea, but _you_ ain't gonna need no more, fer sure." Kerchen scoffed.

"Spend money on such trifles, I wouldn't," he said haughtily, "but why is everything sold normally so dull?"

"I dunno 'bout where you come from," the boy replied, "but fer strong dyes 'ere you need more silver than us commonfolk got." Kerchen looked thoughtful at this comment, but why was a mystery. Magdee _had_ thought that Kerchen was interested in dyes and art, considering that's why the Holderkin had kicked him out, but ever since Kerchen had made no further indications of any kind of inclination to clothes.

"So Dieder, what have you been up to lately?" Magdee asked into the pause, looking to get in on the merrymaking herself. The boy waved his hand around nonchalantly.

"Oh, well-since Ma's lookin' better, figgurd I'd put some time inta lookin' fer a real job. I still work summat at th' Wes'side Inn, but what they pay I can't live off, y'know." Magdee nodded. There were many like her, who traded meals instead of coin for their labor, but Dieder was probably getting the worst of the leavings with very few coppers to boot. Nobody respectable would hire Dieder, really, since without a letter of recommendation, who knew what kind of waif you were hiring?

Apparently oblivious to that fact, Dieder continued. "I dunno what's goin' on-sometimes I _know_ they need people real bad an' they still won't hire me!"

"They probably saw you stealing something," Kerchen put in tactlessly. Dieder started.

"Hey, I'm a good thie-'ey you!" The week thief-_Dieder_-put a finger to his mouth. "Sshh! I dun want everyone an' his aunt to know that!"

"But I already told her," Kerchen replied pointedly, referring to Magdee. A boy with more shame and less pride would have shifted around uncomfortably for a moment, but Dieder simply charged on.

"Why you! Couldn't you 'ave said I was just some waif you befriended on the streets?" Magdee refrained from laughing at this. When Kerchen was awake, which wasn't terribly often, he was too busy trying to do his part for Grandma Magdee to find friends outside. Most kids his age would light up at being able to romp outside on a sunny day; all Kerchen would do is twiddle his thumbs, waiting for Magdee to finish washing the clothes so he could help dry them. "Y'know, mebbe a poor, hungry, homeless beggar kid, sumthin' a bit more _respectable_." Again demonstrating his unusual mindset, Kerchen simply replied matter-of-factly.

"Lying is wrong." And to Kerchen, that was that. As Dieder had soon found out, morals were very simple things to Kerchen. Something was wrong, letting something wrong happen was also wrong, and there was nothing to be debated. Grandma Magdee had thought it a miracle when Kerchen came to her, asking to help the week thief. Magdee suspected that if it weren't for his mother, Kerchen would disapprove no matter how starved Dieder himself was. In fact, Magdee would venture to claim Kerchen would approve of lying or even murder if it was to save family. Kerchen had had only Lugard, whom he had loved terribly much, and Magdee was sure Kerchen would have done anything for the man. She was almost certain he was _too_ affected by Lugard's death, and from his story-well, who wouldn't be? But Kerchen didn't seem to think anything was amiss, and the boy was perfectly sane, so Magdee had no choice but to let go of the matter.

"Man, you're bloody stiff!" Dieder scowled. "You know, sooner or later yer gonna hafta bend a little. Bein' that stiff about what's right and wrong is gonna confuse yer pretty head at some point, and later yer gonna be in a fine pickle!"

_That was surprisingly insightful, _Magdee thought, but Kerchen only rolled his eyes.

"Why a pickle I would fear?" Kerchen asked logically, not actually sounding as logical as he must have thought.

"..Are you fer real?"

"Now now," Magdee said cheerfully, getting up to prepare some after supper herbal tea-a _fine_ blend of apple, lemon, and chamomile- "you know Kerchen's not from hereabouts! You can't just throw idioms at him like that."

"Oh I guess that's right," the boy said haughtily, looking askance at Kerchen, who wasn't quite comprehending the conversation at this point. Catching his lost look, Dieder then laughed and slapped Kerchen's back.

"Well Kerchen me boy! I guess this just means I'm pretty smart!"

"That's right, dear," Magdee replied absently. Kerchen turned to her.

"Grandma Magdee, lying is wrong."

"Hey you! Are you pickin' a fight?"

Magdee sighed, but with good humor.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey all!

Thank you all for making it to chapter 6! This short story ended up not being as short as I thought it'd be... but at least I fixed the synopsis (hopefully)  
Yes, I'm aware that not a lot happens in this chapter, but for those worried that this will become a doorstopper fear not! I think I'll have this story finished in about 3 chapters, though I might later insert filler chapters that I've opted to skip for now.

Is anyone ever bothered by dangling prepositions? Or is the stiff formality of the grammatically correct alternative worse? Or is there some genius method of phrasing that avoids the question all together? If the answer to the last one is yes, I'd like to get in on that..

Anyway, enjoy! Or not enjoy, since free will is _important._

* * *

Kerchen scrutinized the robes, turning them around in his hands.

"A little beaten, but these are Collegium Blues doubtless," he observed dubiously, as though not believing his luck. Dieder just crossed his arms and gave a toothy grin.

"Hmph! Great thief that I am, it wasn't any big deal!" He preened. Kerchen decided not to disabuse him of this notion. However he had come across it, it certainly was _not_ by pulling a great heist. "Whatcha need it fer though?" Kerchen knew he should lie, but could not do so to someone who was clearly neither witch nor demon.

"I want to get to the Collegia," he said truthfully. "Looking like I do, be allowed I certainly wouldn't." Dieder nodded knowingly, as if he had done the same thing himself.

"Can't leave Haven an' not see the inside, right?" he agreed, and Kerchen felt ashamed to mislead him.

_But then again, I'm doing him a favor. He will be better off without another of the White Demons. Father Goroch, you would agree this is the right thing to do, right? _"Thank you," Kerchen said earnestly, and Dieder preened some more. Normally this was an annoying habit of his, but tonight it seemed only endearing. Dieder let out a great sigh.

"Just when things were startin' t'look good fer me!" he said, messing Kerchen's hair. The latter protested at being treated as younger, but the taller Dieder paid no attention. "I was gettin' fed well an' I made a new pal, but now I'm gonna lose it all in the blink of an eye!" Kerchen considered teasing him about having been fed enough, but the boy seemed slightly hurt, so he decided to tell the truth right off.

"Actually, Grandma Magdee is gonna-going to let you take my spot. Though pay you more in coppers, she might." Dieder stopped posturing and stared at him with wide gray eyes. "I told her you weren't going to steal her stuff, and she trusts me." Kerchen looked diffidently to Dieder, whose face was displaying an elaborate journey of increasing comprehension.

"Ya did that fer me?" he asked incredulously. "Even though I'm a thief?"

"You haven't stolen anything besides perhaps these robes since we met," Kerchen admitted, not bothering to add that he honestly didn't think Dieder had stolen those either. "You're no longer a thief to me."

"Well bloody 'ell!" The boy shook his head. "All this time, I thought ya hated me 'cuz I weren't no good but thought leavin' me so skinny "was wrong" or sumthin'-"

"Thieves _should_ be starved," Kerchen corrected, furrowing his brow in perplexion at Dieder's confession. "But why a sinner I would invite to dinner?" Dieder raised an eyebrow.

"That's a lil' harsh, eh?" Then he laughed, though Kerchen didn't know why. "So yer leaving fer real? This is goodbye?" Kerchen tightened his mouth and nodded. The boy then looked at him earnestly, with none of his usual impudence.

"Hey man," Dieder started, and scratched his neck, trying to think of what he wanted to say. "You were kinda arrogant," he continued, already leaving Kerchen less than pleased with this thread of conversation. "And pretty mean. And the way you kept moralizin' was kinda annoying. And-"

"Is this your idea of a goodbye?" Kerchen scowled. The boy grinned.

"Well, I still like ya. Even yer moralizing, sometimes. Yer a good guy Kerchen, and meetin' Gran'ma Magdee, bein' able to eat sumthin' other than moldy bread, not havin' to steal anymore," he gestured, trying to elaborate further but not finding the words. "-well, I've got you t'thank fer all that." Kerchen flushed, feeling strangely gratified. Unexpectedly, Dieder pulled him into a clumsy, awkward hug.

"I'm gonna miss you man," he said firmly, then left so abruptly that Kerchen was left staring at his wake.

_I'll never see him or Grandma Magdee again, _he realized, feeling strangely empty inside._ Nine times out of ten I'll be dead by the end of this, and I won't see them again. _But it was only natural; this mission was the road to redemption, but in another light it was a punishment. To lose more than usual is only because there was so much to gain. The Sunlord surely had let him meet the two Valdemarans to teach him that Valdemar was made of good people too, and not because they would be a part of his life. Yes, they had been a lesson, not a reprieve. He only wished the ache inside him would understand that too.

* * *

Kerchen went to bed early that night, indulging in what was likely his last chance to sleep in a bed. The next morning he would get up, purchase food with all of his earnings from the Holderkin, and then wait for nightfall by the inn called the Compass Rose. He had told Grandma Magdee that he must continue to move, and had stayed shamefully silent when she asked why. Luckily, she didn't press the matter, and agreed to let him spend one more night. Kerchen would have left that night, but he needed to gather enough food to last at least a couple of days. However, this way he had to leave in the morning so as not to seem suspicious. Consequently, he got up fairly early and enjoyed the crisp morning air without the usual burden of having stayed up all night. He gathered his things into his saddlebag, giving the dusky, wooden room a final look. Normally at this time, he would help Magdee with setting up her wares, and then sleep during the day, waking up to run any errands and help Magdee put away her stand. Kerchen grimaced, already missing the regularity of the past few moons but trying hard not to acknowledge it. When he reached the dining table, however, he was greeted with a welcome change in pace.

"Heyla!" Dieder waved at him, his mouth already working on a hotcake. Kerchen had expected Grandma Magdee to be there but not him, so he looked to the woman, bewildered. She graced him with a large, open smile.

"Good morning, Kerchen!" She said cheerfully. "We thought we'd send you off!" Kerchen was moved to see the boy with whom he thought he had already given a final farewell, but let none of this show as it was clear Dieder was in his usual impish mood.

"I thought we'd have a grand ol' time talkin' about what we've been through together," the boy simpered, and already Kerchen was having misgivings about this breakfast. "Lessee, how 'bout we start at the beginnin' when ya put a knife to m'throat-"

"You mean when you were stealing?" Kerchen retorted, and settled himself at the table. Grandma Magdee laughed, setting down another platter of hotcakes and a pot of tea.

"That sounds lovely," she agreed, and then lit up. "Now don't be shy little ones, this tea is my favorite and you can't leave without trying some!" The boys exchanged dubious looks, as Magdee's recommendation was often not correlated with taste. Catching their expressions, Magdee looked at them archly. "And that's _final_," she wagged her finger, and they all laughed, starting a discussion that let Kerchen forget his mission for the last time.

At the end of the meal, Magdee got up and wandered to the other side of the room. Assuming she was leaving to set up her stand, Kerchen started to follow her, but she came back readily enough, with a large cloth sack, equipped with a broad strap.

"Here, little one, take this with you," she said, handing the hefty sack over. Kerchen opened it, eyes widening at its contents. It was full of dried meats, flatbreads, cheeses, beans and rice, along with some apples and a pot with some flint and waterskins as well. Given the abundant water fountains, there was enough dried and fresh food to last him for a week-though it was rather obvious she intended for him to be camping. "You need to leave soon, otherwise it'll be too late to go anywhere! I wish I could've gotten you a good horse or mule, but-well, maybe you'll find another merchant to catch a ride off, who knows?"

"Firs' put a knife to 'is back, so he don't go an' sell ya off," Dieder chimed helpfully. "Though I suppose ya wudn't sell fer much anyway wit' all those scars an' an old scowlin' face!"

"Grandma Magdee-thank you, I-" Kerchen fumbled, not sure how to thank her adequately. Shaking her head, she simply helped him out the door.

"Did you think I was goin' to let you out there with just the clothes on your back?" She helped him sling the strap over his shoulder. "Is it too heavy?" He shook his head. "I put some coins in there too, so don't hesitate to go to an inn if you find one-"

"Grandma Magdee, this is too much-"

"Nonsense! I've got food enough here, and besides, the coins are comin' out of Dieder's pay!" She winked, and the other boy started to protest in the back. "Be careful, don't talk to no one suspicious! And you have to hurry, little one, or the night will be on you before you know it." Turning around to face her at the doorstep, Kerchen nodded, taking a good last look at Grandma Magdee's home. The gray stone front was covered by a bright red canopy and fruit shelves that were still empty, uncharacteristic for the time of day. It was a plain, well worn residence that seemed inviting all the same, as if it had taken a bit of Magdee's character in itself.

"Will you come back?" Magdee asked, and Kerchen thought this over again. With both the robes and the facepaint he acquired, he wasn't too worried about infiltrating the Collegia grounds anymore, but that still left the question of the target. Normally, Kerchen had an advantage in close combat because he was often dealing with scholarly mages, but he could not count on that this time, especially against a former Sunsguard captain. In addition, he had to wait for an opening, and above all had to do so while escaping the eye of anyone who could deduce that he was not a student at all. Even with the robe and carrying all the food he would need, his chances were slight.

"Well, most likely not," Kerchen replied. "If I don't come back in a moon, you'll probably never see me again." Dieder looked taken aback.

"Why not?" He protested loudly. "You couldn't be that busy!" Kerchen shrugged.

"It's dangerous. Rather than busy, probably dead, I'll be." He felt an uncomfortable atmosphere descend upon him as they stared at him in silence.

"Y'ain't ever subtle, are ya?"

"All you ever do is make me worry about you!" Grandma Magdee threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, but lying-"

"Is wrong," The other two finished. Kerchen blinked confusedly, setting off the others into gales of laughter.

"Oh Kerchen, we'll miss you," Magdee laughed, wiping away tears that were only half mirth. Moved, he could only nod in reply. Dieder spoke up.

"Hey Kerchen, remember when ya learned what friend meant?" Despite his emotional turmoil, Kerchen managed a scowl.

"When you told me friend was a fish, and then I ordered two pounds of it?" Kerchen asked dryly. "I think yes, remember I do. The seller's face was hard to forget." Dieder grinned.

"I was talkin' 'bout how I told ya that friends swim together! Like fish. That part weren't no lie," Dieder graced Kerchen with a look that he couldn't identify, but one that seemed to warm him from the inside. "Yer the first friend I ever 'ad, and yer always welcome wit' me."

"Say that once you have a place of your own, little one!" Grandma Magdee laughed, smacking Dieder on the back of his head before he completed his preening look. Managing a laugh despite himself, Kerchen finally bade goodbye to the only grandmother he'd ever had, and the only friend he'd ever made, leaving his last memory of them a timeless excerpt of the joy they had shared.

_Sunlord Vkandis, Lord of Light and Giver of Life, please bless them, though Valdemaran they are..._

And with that prayer, Kerchen entered the final stage of his plan, never realizing how unprepared his heart was for his mission.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey all!

Just as a disclaimer, I have no idea how Mind Gifts are blocked. I'm assuming it's not magic-based, since (emotionally stable) Talia had been unable to read certain people in Valdemar, so Kerchen won't be having the added trouble of hundreds of _vrondi_ watching him.

* * *

"Well, my lady," Trainee Eldan declared, closing the history book, "it appears that you didn't need to study at all." Trainee Selenay tossed her blonde hair, looking satisfied with herself.

"It's my job to be well versed in the happenings of Valdemar, so I take personal interest in this class."

"I hope that wasn't a jab at me," Eldan said jokingly, feigning hurt. Remembering Eldan's mediocre performance, Selenay laughed.

"At least you won't have the Council tearing you apart for mispronouncing the names of Rethwellan's kings. The Council and Court appear civilized, but I suspect if they weren't so concerned about propriety, they might just tear each other to bits."

"Since they've sired and raised some of those highborn Blues, I wouldn't doubt you at all." Eldan grimaced. "I caught a handful of them bullying Theela the other day-you know the girl's only just transferred. Being the country bumpkin that I am, I tried to enlist the help of Jahan or another highborn Trainee, but-"

"-they were all too sore from their latest bout with the Weapons Second to rush to her rescue, I suppose," Selenay finished dryly. She allowed herself a small giggle as Eldan himself rubbed a bruise that he was painfully reminded of, and persisted to continue the conversation. "I suppose I must have been in a Court session? I wouldn't mind having a word with them-they wouldn't have the nerve to bully a Trainee in front of me! But what did you do?"

"Actually, I think it'd be worse for you to antagonize your future Court, Selenay," Eldan corrected, raising an eyebrow. He then smiled gallantly. "But never fear, our dear Theela was rescued when a flock of pigeons decided to relieve themselves over a few sets of wonderful Blue robes. And possibly hair."

"Oh Eldan, you _didn't_-"

"One of the wonderful aspects of Animal Mindspeech is that there are many things you can get away with, provided you stay out of sight," he winked. "I suppose some of them may suspect Theela, but that would still make them think twice about picking on her next time. But just in case, I also escorted her to the safe haven of the Trainee dormitories."

"Why Eldan, you're such a gentleman," Selenay teased. "You'll be making some lucky woman very happy in the future!" Eldan made a show of sighing wistfully.

"I would treat her wonderfully, you know. I'm sure she's out there, waiting for me to conquer the welts our Weapons Second has been leaving on my rear." Selenay giggled, and he continued. "How do you feel about having him guard you whenever you're out in Heraldic Court?" He was rewarded with a gaping mouth. "Oh, now don't look so surprised, I have the eyes of every pigeon in the sky!" Catching her warning look, he quickly moved to reassure her. "Oh no, Selenay, I didn't mean it like that-I was looking for you, and they simply sent an image of Alberich beside you as well; since you were off to the city, I just made a guess." She relaxed, but Eldan was still a little sheepish. "I'm sorry for accidentally spying on you. But anyway, you don't feel nervous?"

"If you're asking "am I worried that mighty Alberich will attack me in a surprise lesson on avoiding assassination and leave me wincing all through a Court session," then yes, I've been on my toes," Selenay briefly allowed herself a wry smile. "If you're asking whether I'm worried he'll betray us, then not at all. Oh Eldan, it's frustrating that there are still even Heralds that don't trust him-at least Mirilin has mostly turned around, but I'm at a loss on what to do about it!"

"Just keep doing what you're doing now," Eldan reassured. "Let everyone see that the Heir trusts him enough to have him guard her, and each passing day the Heir comes back from town unscathed. I don't know if there's a greater measure, or proof, of his loyalty as that." Selenay brightened at his response, but nevertheless responded skeptically.

"Oh yes, that will work out fine, considering that I'm hiding the fact that the evil Karsite Trainee is my bodyguard from everyone except snooping Animal Mindspeakers," she said sarcastically, prompting a laugh from Eldan. They continued to banter until the next bell rang, and then parted ways.

And neither had taken note of the Blue an aisle down.

_Sunlord, what was that?_ Kerchen clutched the book he had taken with trembling fingers. The amount of information that he had just gleaned from that conversation was overwhelming.

Alberich, the Great Traitor, was not only the assistant Weaponsmaster, but also the bodyguard of the heir to the Valdemar throne. This was more trust than he would have expected given to any Karsite, let alone one that already had a history of betrayal. He didn't know if this said more about Alberich's nature or Valdemar's, but either way it was entirely incongruous with what he had been taught-

_No, Kerchen. The important fact here is that weapons instructors are always on the training grounds. _Given the labyrinth of corridors the Collegia grounds sported, Kerchen had expected to study maps and wander for a good many days before locating his target, but now he knew that he needed only find the training grounds, and from that point, patience and his Distance Eye should be adequate. He had expected Alberich to be kept hidden due to his value as an insider and the likelihood of an assassination attempt, but it appeared that this was not at all the case. Yes, Kerchen had solved the issue of tracking the target much sooner than he could have dreamed, but with the logistics aside-

_Demons? There was nothing about those two that was remotely evil! At most an impishness that hardly touched-Dieder's level. Apologizing because he had inadvertently seen her outdoors next to someone else? Rather than spying, that would be called mere coincidence! And witches? Yes, there was that boy's so called Animal Mindspeech, but all he used it for was to find his friends or to stop bullies. _Kerchen had been expecting something like demon summoning or a type of blood magic, but the only ability he had heard that could have been taken for witchcraft seemed no more treacherous than his own Distance Eye.

As an honest person, Kerchen forced himself to admit the truth. In the past moons, he had explored Haven with Magdee and Dieder from top to bottom, seeing all kinds of people from all walks of life. Before, he would have been able to ignore the undercurrents in the conversation, but now, the implications were too obvious to be shoved aside.

These were good people. These were people that would not harm others first. These were people that did everything within their power to follow the right path. These were people that valued and helped their friends.

The only problem was that these people were the Demon-Riders.

_Is this witchcraft? Are they putting on a show?_ Kerchen wondered, with more than just a tinge of hope. Unfortunately, there was no evidence to merit such a conclusion-Kerchen had placed himself one aisle deeper than they, and with the shields that Goroch had taught him, there was no way they could have spied him using an equivalent Distance Eye on him as he had on them. No, they had no idea he was there, and even if they did, would have had no indication that he was anything but a student studying...something dealing with numbers.

And there was one more thing that was impossible to ignore; the girl Selenay was none other than the Heir to the Valdemar Throne. He had been only heartbeats away from the princess herself, who had not a single guard by her side. If he wanted, he could have simply walked by and threw his dagger, and then Valdemaran royal line would have been cut. Yet she seemed to be walking about freely from the Collegia to the city, without any protection other than a dubious Karsite traitor-

_If not a guard, Father Goroch would have at least had the protection of shields._ Selenay's insufficient protections reminded Kerchen of Dieder's direct dash to his mother-leaving himself entirely open with a narrowminded focus for his real concerns. Selenay's concerns had stretched from the bullying of her classmate to the recent raids in the south to the "unbelievable" distrust of Alberich-all concerns that notably lacked her in their centers. Kerchen could hardly imagine a demon even conceiving such a ruse to play.

_Everyone of Karse knows that the Heralds of Valdemar are demons, witches, and at best heretics. Father Goroch told me such himself. So how do I explain this? What is happening here?_ Kerchen felt dizzy, confused-what had once been so dry, so concrete, and so unquestionable, was now resembling nothing but wrong. _They could still be heretics,_ he rationalized, trying to make himself feel better. It didn't work, of course, because their moral conduct was still impeccable, and Vkandis Sunlord didn't just punish all nonbelievers out of hand.

_I've basically holed myself up in this library since yesterday,_ Kerchen remembered, gazing at the sunlight coming from a window. This had been a part of his plan to keep a low profile-after all, he had snuck in by simply merging in with a group of Blues returning from the Compass Rose. Purposefully, he had selected the group that seemed the most enthralled by their studies, so that they wouldn't ask him more than a handful of cursory questions about himself, all of which "I'm new" seemed to answer. Nevertheless, if they noticed him wandering around the Collegia but not in their classes, they might begin to wonder, so he kept to the library, a less efficient but safer method. Now that he had a good chance of pinpointing Alberich's location quickly, however, there was no need to bide his time.

It was broad daylight, and Kerchen stopped briefly at the nearest piece of metal-a polished plaque on the wall-to check his facepaint. Pleased with what he saw, he pretended to bury his nose once again in his numbers book. Since Grandma Magdee had taken care of his food problem, Kerchen spent all the rest of his coins on cosmetics, first testing them out thoroughly under the very questioning eye of the merchant. These weren't the simple paste he had often used back in Karse-the creams and powders he had at his disposal now would hide his scars even on the brightest of days. Kerchen was not an expert like one of Goroch's other operatives was, but thanks to her tutelage he was just able to soften his features so that his Karsite origin was not quite as conspicuous.

Reassured, he turned the final corner away from the labyrinthian building, determined to discover both the location of the Great Traitor and the truth behind the Demon-Riders of Valdemar, but suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Between him and the rest of the Collegia grounds was a great, white horse. A white horse with impossibly blue eyes-

* * *

Alberich instinctively jerked his head up as he felt Kantor stir in the back of his mind.

_:Is there something wrong?:_ he asked, alarmed. Kantor was hardly agitated by anything that had not first come through his Chosen. Luckily, a dry chuckle told him that it was not an emergency.

_:Lekaron just scared an Unaffiliate straight out of his Blues,:_ Kantor explained, amused._ :He had been waiting for Harrow when a Blue came out, buried in an accounting book. The poor boy jumped and nearly hit the ceiling, then bolted off before Lekaron could even begin to enchant him with a Companion's charming blue eyes.: _Alberich gave a snort in response, though his outward appearance remained impassively severe as he watched the students.

_:Charming blue eyes? You Companions seem to be getting full of yourselves.:_

_:Now Chosen, I know they don't squeal with delight at the sight of pretty blue horse eyes in Karse, but the poor colt Lekaron isn't used to such rejection. He'd be hurt if he were greeted with anything but total admiration, much less a scream and a thrown arithmetic book.:_ Kantor sent an image of a preening Companion surrounded by sparkles, all abruptly ending when a child runs away in terror, arms flailing. Alberich stopped his mouth from quirking upwards, forcing it to look like a dissatisfied twitch. But then again, although this was something he had no trouble imagining, he imagined it easily only if he thought of the child as Karsite-

_:Lekaron attests that the Blue looks no older than fourteen,: _Kantor continued, as though anticipating Alberich's response. He relaxed a hair. There would be no point in sending such a young assassin for him, a former Sunsguard captain in the heart of the strongest defenses of Valdemar. It would be nothing but a waste of resources, and surely those resources were instead being directed to, or at, the Tedrels. Why bother risking personal assets when you already had someone else to fight your enemy for you? Besides, keeping the Tedrels out of Karse might already be enough to occupy the Sunpriests.

A chill in the air signalled the approaching winter, and Alberich had confidence that the Tedrels would not yet knock on Valdemar's door. The harvests were ending, so there would be little to raze. It would be hard to wage a campaign in winter, and so Alberich had at least until spring to prepare the students as much as he could for a war.

_Only until spring._ And for awhile, that was the only worry on Alberich's mind.


	8. Chapter 8

Hey all!

Yes, I did take liberties with Jahan and Theela in this. I always wonder about those characters that appear for all of one scene, never to be heard from again. Man I am so ready for some Karchanek stories..

* * *

The crisp autumn night was cold but otherwise perfect. Kerchen, however, was in no position to enjoy it. He huddled in a corner of the Collegia library, trying to reassure himself that the world was not actually turning upside down.

The actions of the Heralds and Herald cadets, Trainees, were impeccable. They weren't saintly, no, but to accuse them of anything more than tomfoolery would by extension condemn someone like Dieder or Grandma Magdee.

_This is a ruse. This could all be a ruse. If they were as good as they look, why would they attack Karsites? Yes, this is some very, very..._very _elaborate ruse. _Kerchen refrained from adding another "very" to that sentence, since a fourth one would surely signal that he was in denial._ Sunlord help me, I _am _in denial. _He knew there was no way the purported Demon-Riders, barbaric as they were, could ever act this way, knew it was impossible that they would have found him out in the first place. If they did know he was Karsite, they would have killed him first! It simply would not make sense to fill him with false information when they didn't know if he was reporting to anyone-which wasn't actually his objective in the first place. Besides, Goroch had other operatives who had made it back from, perhaps not Haven, but at least Valdemar, and they had reported nothing like this. Goroch had not warned him that they were this deceptive, only evil-

_Evil Karsite Trainee. _That was how some of the students referred to Alberich, the Great Traitor. Often it was said in jest, but Kerchen could tell it still made some students uneasy. It wasn't hard to imagine people distrusting the Great Traitor, but they never tagged their suspicions with his _betrayal_ of Karse, but with the fact that he was _Karsite._ As though Valdemar was the victim-

Kerchen heard a scuffle on the other side of the cold window. He peered out, noticing it was a brown-haired Trainee-Jahan, and a smaller, somewhat mousy girl that reminded him of the little back with the Holderkin.

"Theela, did they bully you again?" he grimaced, making fists. Theela stayed silent, but Jahan seemed to know what this meant. "Bright Astera! You'd think they'd learn by now. Tell me who it is! I'll sock 'em good and hard!"

"You can't!" gasped Theela, her large eyes pools of fear. "You don't rank them, you'll get in trouble-"

"I haven't got rank, but sure got money," Jahan sniffed. "Besides, maybe if I put on a mask, they won't even know it's me." The girl continued to shake her head. "Oh Havens Theela! I don't particularly care whether it's a fishmonger or Orthallen's son! They're picking on you, and I'm not going to fart around and let that happen under my watch!" Theela blushed, though at what Kerchen wasn't quite sure. She straightened up a bit.

"Eldan already gave-gave them a warning," she confessed diffidently. "So you don't have to worry. Besides, it won't reflect well on Heralds if us Trainees go around beating up people we don't like. It's because there are highborns that still don't respect us that things like this happen in the first place." Jahan conceded this point to her with a reluctant nod.

"Huh, I don't like the sound of that, but I suppose you're right. But if Eldan didn't beat them up, what did he do?" His inquiry was greeted with only a smile.

As the two figures retreated, Kerchen settled back into his seat in higher spirits, but was then horrified to discover a smile on his lips as well. As he tried to fix the strange quirk on his mouth, he heard footsteps approaching his far corner of the library. He quickly buried himself in his (new) book, hoping he wasn't holding it upside down. Luckily enough, the student walked past him without a glance, openly as though he had nothing to hide. This was yet another trait of many Collegia students that baffled the Karsite assassin.

"There you are, Elyssa!" The student called out after passing him. Bewildered, Kerchen instinctively turned, though all he saw were bookshelves. Before entering, he had searched the entire library and knew there was no one further back-so he must not have noticed Elyssa pass him at all. Had he been that witless today?

_Well it's not quite as humiliating as when you screamed at the sight of a white horse._

_It was a White Demon! _Kerchen snapped back mentally, and suddenly wondered when he'd gotten into the habit of arguing with himself.

"Oh Hannan, what are you doing here this late?" The girl asked nonchalantly, but Trainee-_no, Demon-Rider_-Hannan was not taking her tone in step as he replied very seriously.

"I was looking for you, of course! It's a certain someone's Birthing Day today, and she'll have a fit if you weren't there-you look pale, is something wrong?" There was an uncomfortable pause.

"I've gotten some bad news from the holding," Elyssa confessed mournfully. "There's been a bandit raid, and since it was at night, the Border Watch didn't respond in time-I haven't received the word from my parents, just word of mouth. What if something bad's happened-if someone died-" The voice choked up. Concerned, Kerchen got up, thinking of walking closer to hear better-

_What are you doing? _He abruptly sat back down, and tried to remind himself that he should not be concerned for Demon-Riders at all. Oblivious to the mental turmoil a few aisles away, Demon-Rider Hannan sighed.

"Well first of all, I'm pretty impressed you managed to hear about a Border raid through the grapevine. Even if you did hang out with the highborns, that doesn't really seem like courtier talk." A pause. "To be honest Elyssa, I don't think you need to worry. You said your parents taught you-and if that's true, they must fight like demons!"

_Oh how funny. Is this supposed to be some kind of ironic joke? _Kerchen tried not to think about the possibility of it being a joke without the ironic.

"I-I suppose you're right," the girl started uncertainly. "They and the guards managed for this long." Another pause as the girl changed her mind. "But then again, I think some of the raids this year are particularly bad-I should check up on them.." The boy sighed.

"Elyssa, and skip a week of lessons? Dethor will have your hide-and then feed you to his Second!" A pause. "But Elyssa, I think it'd be a good idea to warn them to fortify the holding. I've been noticing some changes around here and finally asked Erron-turns out there's rumors of Karse preparing for war against us."

"War? That's insane!" Elyssa gasped, oddly echoing Kerchen's own thoughts. "I don't know much about Karse, but Valdemar is at its prime. Surely they don't have the resources!"

"You know Companions don't lie. Well, at least not about something like this. Anyway, nothing's official yet so they're keeping it quiet, but Erron tells me that it's possible Karse will be hiring out mercenary companies."

"I suppose that would explain some of the resources," Elyssa replied dryly. "And I wouldn't count on those companies getting their pay. Well, it doesn't matter-I'll protect my family, whether it's from mercenaries, bandits, Karsites or Pelagirs beasts! Don't look at me like that-I suppose I can try regular messenger first." A shuffling of chairs as she stood up. "Thank you for telling me, Hannan. I suppose I better thank you by attending the celebration, hm?" The boy gave a weak chuckle.

"You'd break her heart with your nonchalance."

It was after their footsteps died away that Kerchen's fingers finally lost their grip on the incomprehensible book. He didn't bother to pick it up since his hands were trembling too much to hold it anyway.

_War? Karse is declaring war on Valdemar? _His mind was swimming, trying frantically to make sense of what had transpired. _This could be a ruse. A very elaborate ruse. Yes, ye-no! Sunlord's glory, Kerchen! You've said that a million times! You can't confirm it at all so let's assume, for now, that it's not. Also, the war was only rumor, let's dismiss that for now._

This was, strangely, the first time any Train-Demon-Rider had said something aggressive towards Karse. Then again, Ely-the female Demon-Rider took a rather justifiable stance. Whoever attacked her family were enemies, though it just so happened that she was situated closest to Karse. Yes, just like Jahan, they fought simply to protect their loved ones. In a conflict of Karse and Valdemar, those such as Elyssa would fight on the opposite side of Kerchen's home, simply because their loved ones were Valdemaran. In the end, though, both sides were fighting for the same reasons.

This was the last straw. It was absolutely the last straw. The once confident Karsite assassin was now inexorably melting into an emotional puddle, as everything he had learned in the past few days warred with everything else he had learned at birth. The nature of Valdemarans, the inexplicably missing evil of Heralds, the selflessness of the witch throne, the rumored war-he was lost in the information he had gathered and knew for sure only that nothing made sense.

_Calm down. You have to calm down. Father Goroch told you that logic should prevail during an operation, not emotions._ Taking some hopefully deep breaths, Kerchen groped for the cool mindset he developed for undertaking missions. First, the facts. He liked Valdemarans. He liked Heralds and Trainees. He had been on Collegia grounds for a few days now, and he was only liking them more. This was probably not going to mix well with his mission.

_Well, lying is wrong, and being honest with yourself is good, _his logical side piped up.

_Why, thank you logical side. _Kerchen rolled his eyes, and then realized what he was doing. He tried very hard not to slam his head against the book. _Now I'm talking to myself. I'm at my wits' end, and any more of this I might lose it. _Assuming he hadn't already. Anyway, yes, his mission. His mission was to kill the Great Traitor, whom he hadn't seen-yet-

_I haven't met the Great Traitor yet, _he realized, and suddenly his spirits seemed to jump straight up to the heavens. _That's right-who cares about the other Heralds? I'll ask Father Goroch about them later-but anyway, they could all be saints for all that it matters! As long as Alberich is as vile a person as I'd believed, then my mission is straightforward. Yes, this is it-the other Trainees were all born in Valdemar, so of course they would grow up defending Valdemar above all else-but what of Alberich, who served Karse for years until he suddenly defected? I can do this mission-surely. _He had finally found the training grounds today, and it wouldn't be a stretch to find where the weaponsmaster's quarters were-and the assistant was sure to be close by. He had not yet ventured to find it out of caution, but for some reason he no longer wanted to entertain caution tonight.

With barely controlled eagerness, Kerchen jumped up from his seat. He left his sack in a corner, and glanced at his book. In hopes that people wouldn't bother him if he were studying, he had run around the Collegia grounds with his nose buried in it-but since the moon was out now, him reading a book he couldn't see would be more suspicious.

_Well, you could tote it around to throw at horses if you get scared again._

_You're quite the joker today, aren't you?_

_Hey, if you don't laugh some, you'll probably start crying rivers instead. _Kerchen gave a small laugh at the side of him that grew Dieder's impishness, and noted how hysterical he sounded.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey all!

Well that took awhile...but here it is! What do I have to say for myself? Not much..

* * *

_This tisane is starting to grow on me, _Alberich thought, as Dethor poured him a cup from the pot. _I wonder if I'm turning Valdemaran._

_:Perhaps you're just turning into an old man,: _Kantor supplied.

_:At this rate my hair will turn white soon enough.: _Alberich wanted to sigh, but suppressed the urge as Talamir settled down as well for yet another nightly discussion. It was not uncommon for Talamir to join the two, but their slightly rigid postures alerted Alberich that tonight's dicussion was going to be business. He knew this was going to be related to Karse some way or another, and it didn't take a genius to see that they were unsure of how Alberich would react to the news.

"Alberich," began Talamir hesitantly, "The Lord Martial has a request." Alberich let only an eyebrow rise inquisitively in response. "He's going to be sending-agents into Karse." Though he had refrained from using the word spies, Alberich had to give him credit for not mincing any words.

_:You might need to work on your grammar a bit more before they start using fancy talk on you,: _Kantor noted wryly.

_:You aren't making a strong case for the cause,: _retorted Alberich. Although he had cooperated with the Lord Martial's spies before, they had only requested some terrain information-this request, however, was definitely treading in dangerous waters. He waited for Talamir to continue.

"They've already had some lessons in Karsite language, but we were hoping you would prepare them more thoroughly," Talamir confessed. "With confirmation of the Tedrels' hire, the Lord Martial is desperate for more information. However, it has been...very difficult to keep the agents from being discovered. Valdemar has already lost many." Alberich nodded with understanding. Anyone born of Karse could tell almost from sight that Valdemarans, though of all shapes and sizes, were innately un-Karsite. He knew well why the two were relieved anytime a spy came back from Karse-and tonight it seemed they wanted to lower the risks. "I have managed to convince him not to enlist any Heralds, but I have no jurisdiction on how he orders his own men. I would rather he send out good men that have a chance of coming back, rather than good men that will not." Alberich grimaced. Talamir guessed what was on his mind and continued. "The men we want you to train are only for gathering information to prepare us against the Tedrels-perhaps movements of mercenaries, or suspiciously large payments that may be going to Tedrel coffers. Any information gleaned will not be used to harm Karse itself, and especially not its civilians."

"Understand, you do, that untrue this must be," Alberich pointed out slowly. "Valdemar to help is the same as Karse to harm, if about a war between the two we are talking." Talamir's disappointment was visible. "However, understand I do the need to protect citizens from the first Tedrel attack, when come it does. Know I must, that the Lord Martial's men will not harm Karsite civilians nor use the information to let others harm, now or in the future. For Tedrel soldiers no concern I have, but that is all allow I will." Talamir nodded, unsurprised.

"I understand, Alberich, and I assure you that they do as well. They've been given similar briefings already, but I will also relay your specific message to them." Finally Dethor spoke up, with an edge of vexation in his voice.

"Havens, Alberich! You've been here for nearly half a year now," Dethor exclaimed wearily. "You still believe we wouldn't care about protecting innocents?"

"Not Heralds, I doubt, but other Valdemarans. Companions these men have not-they could of many natures be. Claim you would not, that Valdemarans particularly like Karsites. It is not unreasonable hate, but that only worse is. Even with Talamir's word, worry I must." Dethor seemed mollified by Alberich's response, and Talamir considered it carefully.

"I understand your concern, it may be an issue," Talamir agreed. "I can ask them if they are willing to undergo Truth Spell. Though it seems like an abuse of the spell, I can convince them of the importance of doing so, and since the casting will be consensual, it should be no problem." Alberich relaxed.

"Then, accept these conditions, I will. If pass they do, teach them of Karsite and Karse I shall." Talamir nodded, and they began a lengthy discussion of the logistics of the lessons.

When the long evening finally concluded, Alberich gave Kantor a mental probe to see if he was still awake. He was, but distracted.

_:What is it?: _Alberich inquired, as Kantor's attention did not often wander.

_:It appears I missed a Blue spying on your conversation,: _Kantor replied, not sheepish but a bit bemused. Alberich's worn mind managed to make room for yet another worry.

_:Why didn't you tell me earlier?: _His tone was less accusatory than concerned.

_:I'm sorry,: _Kantor apologized uncharacteristically. _:I saw a Blue wandering about earlier but didn't take much note of him.: _Alberich considered what the student could have overheard from the conversation. They had only discussed the setup of the lessons and not of their stations on Karse nor the men's identities, so the information was surprisingly innocuous. If the Blue was a spy, then at most he could report that Valdemar was sending in agents, which was something Karse was already well aware of. Could he have been an assassin, then? If so, the only reason why he would linger around the Weaponsmaster's quarters would be if Alberich were his target..

_:And that explains why he left the moment before you would be alone in your own room,: _added Kantor dryly.

_:You're right,: _he conceded. Most likely, it was just a Blue on a dare to spy on the evil Karsite Trainee-it wouldn't have been the first attempt.

_:You're becoming quite popular, aren't you, Chosen?: _Kantor teased. Alberich sighed, wondering whether or not the fact that his Companion was joking was a good thing.

* * *

The crisp autumn night was perfect, but entirely ruined for Kerchen. He sat on a cold patch of well manicured lawn, hugging his legs and staring blankly at his knees.

_That was an unfortunate venture_.

Yes, very unfortunate. The last thread of hope that he had seized with all his might had led him to the conclusion he was trying to avoid all along.

Alberich, the Great Traitor, whom he could have slain easily if he had waited just another mark, was an honorable man. Whatever his reasons for leaving Karse, it was clear Alberich still loved his country. His tone, despite being a very stilted version of Valdemaran, breathed discipline, compassion, and above all honor-a true man of Karse. It was not long before the morally righteous assassin realized _his_ honor was at stake.

As a servant of Vkandis Sunlord, Kerchen could never kill such a man-it would be utter blasphemy. Nevertheless, his duty was to kill Alberich. He had said so under oath to Sunpriest Goroch, and he could never take those words back.

Father Goroch, his savior, had entrusted Kerchen with this mission, had said this mission would vindicate him in the eyes of the Sunlord. How could he possibly give up now? How could he return home and tell Father Goroch that he had simply given up his mission, that his knife had never even left its sheath?

_Perhaps if I can't return home, I can stay here? _Grandma Magdee might not hire him with Dieder around, but perhaps he could still live there. Yes, Magdee would welcome him back, especially if he found another job himself..

_And live here forever?_ Although in some ways tempting, the idea gave Kerchen an ill feeling in his gut. No, he could not stay in Valdemar, because Valdemar was not his home. This was something Kerchen had already thought about-there were too many things in this country that made him yearn all the more for his instead. He felt it every time Grandma Magdee would scrutinize her tea leaves, every time she cooked and then smells entirely void of Karsite spices thickly covered the air, every time he looked out onto the street and saw no one like himself. Grandma Magdee was kind and wonderful, in some ways more dear than Father Goroch-but that was not quite enough for a child of Karse.

_Besides, Father Goroch entrusted me with this mission_. Kerchen was forced to admit the real reason why he couldn't stay in Valdemar. _Even if I don't return to Karse, not trying to finish the mission is the same as abandoning it. _The same as reneging on his oath.

He couldn't abandon his oath. It would be the act of a coward. It would corrupt him as the person named Kerchen.

_You've already made exceptions for stealing, _a part of him pointed out sheepishly, though it only served to emphasize his original conclusion._Yes, I've already made exceptions for stealing to save lives, and even before that killing to defend innocents-and how much farther will I go? If I don't hold onto even my word, I would have-nothing, really._

_But maybe Father Goroch would understand.._

Yes, Father Goroch _might _still understand why Alberich shouldn't be killed-even if he had already lost some operatives to this man- Nevertheless, the fact that Kerchen had sworn to kill Alberich and not done so would not change; he would have still broken his oath.

He buried his face in his hands and spent the next few moments cursing under his breath, wishing deeply that he hadn't made an oath so injudiciously. His calm façade was cracking, but Kerchen didn't try to gain it back, as it had been fake anyway.

_Sunlord! If I'd only just kept my mouth shut! What was I trying to do, impress him? Well, yes-what a stupid thing to do-_

_It was only a couple of words, maybe this wasn't _that _big of a deal. Everyone makes mistakes right? Father Goroch told me that Valdemaran blood was the same as demonic blood, and that was wrong. Why, the Sunlord made an oath to his people to protect those that believed in him, and Lugard had still died-_

Just as Kerchen felt his hopes rising, he was immediately mortified to realize what he had just thought. _You fool! You stupid fool! Now you're questioning the Lord of Light? This isn't what Father Goroch taught you-this isn't what Lugard taught you to do! You've been corrupted, Kerchen, corrupted by this lordless Valdemar. How far will you fall? You should kill Alberich, the sooner the better, before you forget your loyalty to Karse._

_But Valdemar is full of good people-good if sometimes misguided people_. It was almost funny how his head seemed to be filled with nothing but incessant objections. _And Alberich is definitely a man of Karse. You can't kill innocents._

_But you still made that oath-and don't abandon it again. You came close to losing yourself as Goroch's protégé, Kerchen. _He cursed and hit his head on his knees, asking himself for the hundredth time why he had made such a stupid oath. Not that he really wanted to hear the answer.

His debate continued for hours on end, with him thinking he had set a course for himself, but then finding yet another side of him that disagreed. He brought up ideas over and over, and shot them down in ways that were no longer new. He wasn't really sure why he was debating still, since a part of him already knew it was impossible to win.

There was simply no way for him to uphold his values. There was simply no place in this world for Kerchen.

Startled by this conclusion, he began to cry, with tears that gradually turned into muffled sobs. He wept out of frustration, out of shame, out of loneliness and a longing for a home he could not return to. No longer lucid, the boy was torn, tired, angry, cold, and above all hysterical. Soon enough, Kerchen no longer knew why he was weeping, only that he couldn't stop until dawn had already arrived.


	10. Chapter 10

(EDIT) Hey all!

I edited this chapter just so I could remember when I posted a chapter 10 on October 10, 2010. I'm going to shoot for a chapter 11 on 11/11/11 next year, stay tuned

* * *

Kerchen washed off the last traces of facepaint in the pond and stared at the image that now looked back. It was much older than the face he'd seen a few minutes ago, with light scars imitating wrinkles, and deeper scars telling a story of his missions. Today was an important day, and for once, his ruined complexion was actually going to help him.

He scanned the now familiar groomed lawns of the Collegia gardens, noting that his now discarded Blues were sufficiently conspicuous, even in the young light of dawn. In the off chance that Dieder had stolen them, perhaps this way they would find their original owner.

His sacks were now nearly empty, and so the boy had no trouble tying them high up in one of the trees. Realizing that he had now left nothing of himself behind to find, Kerchen walked off to begin a long wait.

* * *

"Heyla, Alberich!" Selenay greeted cheerfully. Alberich returned the greeting gravely as Kantor lined himself up next to Caryo. Despite his appearance, he was beginning to enjoy the field experience that he was acquiring with Selenay. Though the topics in Heraldic hearings were more mundane than those in Valdemar's court and Karse's priesthood, they functioned similarly and were equally petty.

_:That's rather insulting to our civilians,: _Kantor remarked.

_:I'm glad you have the sense not to defend your Court.:_

_:And I'm glad you've gotten so comfortable with how petty your Priesthood is.: Just like a Valdemaran_ was the unspoken idea, though Alberich was glad Kantor refrained from dealing the finishing blow.

The two Companions headed off to the city at a slow canter. Herald Mirilin had some business to finish so would be meeting them at the court instead. Alberich took it as a good sign that Mirilin trusted him enough to leave him alone with the Heir-though perhaps his Companion had a hand in that.

They were turning down a winding path to the city, passing through the last clumps of garden before the elaborate estates of the aristocracy began. As usual, the road was calm and relatively empty, but something today put Alberich on edge. There was something unnatural about how the wind moved, as if something that shouldn't be there, was-something that shouldn't be was blocking it from one direction-

There was no need for words. Kantor immediately pivoted to the right as Alberich drew his sword. He gestured to the bewildered Selenay to fall back as Kantor kicked with his front hooves at the attacker, who jumped back immediately. Alberich eyed him as he firmed his grips on two knives. The boy-no, man?-had a gaunt face covered in scars and a wiry body that was likely all muscle. Though his age was indiscernable, his features were undoubtedly Karsite.

"Who are you?" Alberich maintained a passive tone, which was not quite how he felt.

"I have come to kill you," was the equally passive reply. Kantor stirred, mirroring Alberich's own bewilderment.

This Karsite assassin had managed to infiltrate Haven, infiltrate the Palace grounds itself-and yet was stupid enough to make a sophomoric declaration of war like an amateur, against two mounted enemies in broad daylight no less. What was his aim? Was this apparent foolishness a part of his plan? Perhaps he wasn't alone?

_:What do you think?: _Kantor inquired, every bit a partner ready for orders. Alberich could feel the Companion's body bracing for a lethal kick.

_:No, I can take him.: _Alberich dismounted, carefully studying the assassin. There was no one near them-therefore, if he had an accomplice, it would have to be an archer of sorts. If Alberich engaged in close combat with the man instead, an accomplice would not have a clear shot of him. Selenay and Caryo were alert, and he would simply have to trust that they were alert enough. The assassin opened his mouth again, his tongue no longer speaking Valdemaran, but a gutteral yet liquid tongue that struck Alberich's heart.

"I will have your head, Alberich the Great Traitor!" And the man charged forward with two knives no less lethal than his words.

_Left jab. Forward right. Fall back. Parry-right jab. _Kerchen was unnaturally calm as he sparred off against Alberich. He performed every technique in his repertoire, his knives moving in ways that would have killed his previous targets five times over. The former Sunsguard captain, however, parried and evaded as though he had already seen these moves a hundred times over, wielding his longsword with the lethal power of three. The boy's shorter knives were an odd matchup to Alberich's longsword, but they may have been the only reasons why he was still alive; although it would be more difficult for him to land a killing blow, he had a greater mobility with his shorter weapons. Nevertheless, Alberich's weaponswork was brutal, strong, and precise, and completely overpowering Kerchen. That was, of course, his plan.

He could not run away from killing this man, nor could he kill him. The only answer was, then, to die trying.

Sacrificing his right arm, Kerchen lunged forward to score his first scrape on his opponent. The boy had wondered whether it would be a good idea to attack seriously the man he wanted to save just for versimilitude, but he realized now that it was a foolish concern-Alberich was at an entirely different level, and Kerchen's only bet to kill him would have been in his sleep. Through a flurry of blows, the longsword found its way into his leg, sending a shock of pain through his body even as he fell back out of reach.

_This isn't sane_, a small voice in his head whimpered, but Kerchen ignored it. If sane conduct interfered with his moral code, then there was no debate as to which of the two he would choose. Of course, he had no doubt that this was the logical option-if he died during an attempt at the Heir, the news of his death would certainly travel back to Father Goroch, so that the Sunpriest would know of Kerchen's fate. If he made the attempt, then perhaps Selenay would realize how poorly protected she normally was. In benefiting both Karse and Valdemar, his plan was flawless.

_Yes, this is the perfect plan_, another part of him drawled, _except for the dying part._

Dying? And why not? Kerchen saw his fate clearly but also saw its insignificance with clarity. His life? Why should he care? The life of a coward that hid in a cellar, the life of a boy who should not have lived past Lugard's death-in a way, he should have died with his father, so his death was actually eight years due.

Sunpriest Goroch said this mission would redeem him. It would. He would make up for his failure to die on that night.

_Parry-left thrust. Back, back, left thrust, forward, left thrust. _Kerchen attacked relentlessly with his knife, though his left leg was already half gone and his right arm was entirely. Despite some broken ribs from an earlier blow, he managed to twist his body out of further harm as the longsword lunged forward and swept the knife across Alberich's chest. Alberich, as expected, stepped easily out of range, dragging his blade across Kerchen's body. He cried out in pain and doubled over, but what shocked him more was that he wasn't already dead.

_He wants me alive, _he realized. _That's why I've been able to last this long against him-that's why these are all flesh wounds! _Confirming his discovery, the longsword snaked forward to find his good leg, but he jumped back with little more than a scrape. For the first time in days, Kerchen felt fear. What happened to him was his own problem, but if they kept him prisoner under Truth Spell-what could that do to Goroch?

The Karsite boy was becoming painfully aware of the bleeding, limp state of half his body. He was being immobilized, and now only one thought rushed through his mind.

_I can't let them cast Truth Spell on me!_

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the silouette of Selenay, who was frozen on her Companion, staring in horror. Without hesitation, he put all his weight on his right leg and leapt forward, making as if to throw the knife at the Heir. Alberich, who had correctly deduced that Kerchen was there to kill him, was startled by this sudden change in target. Now unchecked by anything but instinct, the Weapons Second's sword moved with a mind of its own, lodging itself squarely into the chest of the Karsite assassin.

He stared down at the sword impaling him with a sort of disbelief, and then crumpled to the ground as it was suddenly removed.

It hurt. It really hurt. Before he knew it, the boy was shuddering with pain, unable to get up. With the trance of battle over, the burn of every blow crept up on him until every inch of him seemed to be on fire. He cried out, in more pain than he had ever learned to endure. Then, just as suddenly, all his senses seemed to dull, just a notch but enough to make him lucid again. No longer having the strength to writhe, he opened his eyes, seeing more and more people arrive through his streaming eyes. They seemed to be moving in slow motion-actually, everything seemed to be slower, duller. Mostly Heralds or Herald-Trainees with their White Demons-no, Companions-were gathering, faces with varying degrees of bewilderment, repulsion, and pity.

_Look Kerchen, even the Demon-Riders think you're unseemly._

He would have laughed if it could have come out as anything other than a strangled groan. Of course he was repulsive; he knew what he looked like-pathetic, a bloody, unseemly pile of broken bones desecrating the beautiful verdant gardens of the Valdemaran palace. It was almost funny, really-he could still remember all those years he spent protecting his pride, refusing to show any pain in front of Werda.

_Huh. Was that really me before? _It felt like ages ago, but really it hadn't been that long at all. _Well, I guess people can change quickly._ He used to chastise himself for any sign of weakness-now, in front of the Great Traitor and other hated witches of Valdemar, he was a mess and made no attempt to hide it. Tears of pain were openly streaming down his face, and what still worked of his body was uncontrollably shuddering from the wounds he had sustained. The sight of him must have been grotesque, and he was aware of a wretched gurgling that seemed to be coming from his throat. But his pride meant nothing to him in front of these people whom he had come to love.

The Great Traitor-no, Alberich of Karse-was staring at him, his face unreadable, but his eyes betraying horror at what he had done. Horror as it dawned on him that he had delivered a boy of fifteen a fatal blow.

_Nevermind that this boy was an assassin sent all the way from Karse_, Kerchen thought, his thoughts getting increasingly sardonic. _Though he'd thought I was a grown man, he still wasn't planning on killing me like this. _How could a man so noble gain such an unfitting epithet?

And how did the Heralds of Valdemar become the Demon-Riders in Karse? And how did Karsite children all go to bed fearing the White Demons? And how did such a kind man as Lugard meet such an undeserved end? And how did Kerchen end up getting himself killed by people he liked?

_It seems the longer I live, the more questions there are,_ Kerchen mused languidly, his mouth finally deciding to stop dribbling blood, like an exhausted well. _I should probably get on with dying then. _Resigned to his fate, he closed his eyes, but was jolted awake with a sudden stab in his mind.

_:Stop it, you fool!:_

Languidly bewildered, he spotted, through blurred eyesight, the impossible; a white figure was making a mad dash to him, weaving only just enough to stop from trampling everyone in her path, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her that seemed to reach the heavens themselves.

_:I Choose you!: _she cried desperately, as though flinging her very soul towards him. _:I Choose you!:_

There wasn't enough time left to form a coherent thought. His mind just barely stirred up a feeling of incredulity-why had she Chosen an assassin? And why had she Chosen him not even seconds from his death? There was one thing he had always known about Companions-it was that they died with their Chosen Herald. It was nothing but suicide-

Yet the eddy of emotions in his heart was quickly flooded by something else-some strange, unstoppable happiness. His soul was being filled with insurmountable joy, so overwhelming that his streaked face managed to break into a weak but heartfelt smile, a smile that oddly no longer felt foreign on his face. As his blood poured into the soil of Valdemar, he closed his eyes, with the relief of knowing that he would not have to face his death alone, and with the joy of having found a place where he had belonged.


	11. Chapter 11

Alberich gazed towards the Healer's Collegium once again, not feeling any better for having done so.

_Sunlord, what if he doesn't make it? _He knew best the kind of damage he inflicted on the boy-a scarred boy that he now realized couldn't have been more than eighteen.

_:I see you've gotten over the fact that your assassin has been Chosen.: _Kantor's presence reinstated itself in his mind.

_:He has been Chosen, and I of all people should know what that means.: _Alberich turned his attention back to the salle, as he and Dethor prepared the grounds for the next group of students. _:Who were you talking to?:_

_:Alvira, among others,: _Kantor answered, and an edge to his mindvoice told Alberich that the talk hadn't gone all too well. _:That she has Chosen and not yet repudiated is a solid indication of this assassin's trustworthiness, but many of the Companions are angry or at least unsettled by the fact she has done so without a clear calling. Well, not to mention her Chosen tried to kill you and Selenay.:_

_:What's your opinion?:_

_:I don't know,: _he admitted. _:My only calling was for you, and it was strong enough to send me all the way into Karse. I wouldn't know whether the feeling that drove her to Choose him was an abrupt calling or a panicked sort of pity. In any case, speculation about his character can wait until he's fully conscious. Alvira hasn't been willing to disclose anything about him.: _Alberich could see the sense in this. Besides honoring the boy's right to privacy, if he were a Karsite assassin, then certainly there were some damning pieces of information he must keep secret. Nevertheless, he would have perhaps an even more difficult time than Alberich had-although Alberich had paved a way for Companions to accept Karsites, he had never made an attempt to harm Valdemaran citizens, much less the Heir herself.

The students began filing in, and Alberich took his place behind Dethor. His arms were folded, and he stood tall and still, though he wanted more than anything to wring his fingers and wait in the Healer's Collegium.

* * *

_Kerchen was in a place flooded with light. There seemed to be nothing in this world but the warm, bright glow that enveloped him in peace. His feet were walking forward by themselves, and he stopped when he was faced with a smile that he never thought he could see again._

_"P-Papa," he choked, tears welling in his eyes as Lugard stood before him, as whole and hale as Kerchen had remembered him being._

_"Lord of Light, Kerchen! You've gotten so big!" he laughed generously, as he always had. "You're a man now, my boy! You should act a little manlier and call me Pops or something!"_

_"P-Pops?" he tested uncertainly. Another laugh._

_"I never knew you to be so serious. Now that you'll be living in Valdemar, you should loosen up. Well, you can also punch the bastards that gave you those scars-don't worry, I'll approve." Kerchen started as to hug him, but the man stopped him from approaching with a raised hand. "It's not yet time for you to come to my side, Kerchen-I appear before you to deliver this message. You have died as Vkandis's disciple, and the Sunlord forgives you in light of your honor. You still continue to live as Kerchen." The boy was only able to half decipher the message he was given and not at all able to articulate the emotions he was feeling. As Lugard turned and walked away, the boy blurted out something before it was too late. Only one thing came out of his mouth, and he was too nervous to be embarrassed about the fretful whine to his voice._

_"Papa, do you forgive me?" he cried out to the receding figure._

_"Forgive you?" Lugard turned around one last time to face Kerchen, and then gave him a smile as bright as any he had when he was living. "Kerchen, there was never anything I needed to forgive you for."_

A gasp, followed by needles of pain.

_:Are you alright?: _she inquired, alarmed. He had only been half conscious up to this point, but he could tell that she had been watching over him and talking to him the whole time. _:They said your life was no longer in danger, but I'll supply as much energy as you need.:_

_:Where am I?: _asked Kerchen, replying instinctively in his head. It came so naturally to him that she must have been giving him some kind of lessons.

_:Actually, it's more like you have experience arguing with yourself,: _she replied wryly. Kerchen had to concede that point, though how she had known that was a mystery. _:You're in the Healer's Collegium. Since you're asking questions now, I suppose you're finally lucid.: _He felt a ripple of joy pass through the bond between them. It was a strange feeling, but strange in that it seemed-right. It was a wonder how only a moon ago, Companions were nothing but White Demons to him. _:Oh, so you know we're not demons. Already I've got an advantage over Kantor.:_

_:Kantor?:_

_:Companion to Alberich,: _she replied promptly, but trailed off. Kerchen guessed what disturbed her.

_:They didn't want me saved,: _he stated. It was entirely logical, since he didn't expect to be saved at all. Perhaps when they realized his true age, they decided to show him mercy?

_:You were saved because you were Chosen,: _she said firmly, with a hint of smugness. _:And because you were Chosen by me. Through our bond, I was able to Heal you more quickly than even Crathach could have, so that kept you with us until we could get some real Healers on you.:_

_:You can Heal?: _The White Demon notion was seeming very silly.

_:As a matter of fact, I can-I was actually the only Companion of age who hasn't Chosen yet with the Healing Gift. You and I were meant to be bonded.: _She affirmed the last vigorously, alarming the boy a bit in the heat he felt behind her voice. _:I thought I lost you for a moment there-but I suppose with me as your Companion, that would have been impossible!: _She preened with pride, and her shameless boasting irresistibly reminded him of Dieder.

_:I thought I'd be rid of that whelp forever, but looks like I'll be stuck with a female copy of him instead,: _he remarked with resignation, though he knew there was a smile on his lips.

_:Hey, is that an insult? I'd like to hear more about this Dieder,: _she said haughtily, but a hint of wistfulness crept into the last sentence. Since he could hardly move an inch anyway, he might as well tell some stories.

* * *

Kerchen couldn't tell how many days had passed. Alvira told him all sorts of things, chattering away with zeal about everything she knew about Valdemar. It was obvious she expected him to stay there with the other Trainees, but for some reason Kerchen did not react with anxiety. He wasn't quite certain about the change in himself, but it filled him with a sense of purpose-an odd sense of rightness. He found it strange that he would feel so at ease in their Healer's Collegium, despite the bright, mellow green room. The potions he was being fed certainly had a hand in his languid, lazy state, but he had the distinct impression that there was something he was forgetting.

_:They're coming,: _she told him, abruptly cutting off her story about glassblowers.

_:The Healers?: _Kerchen hazarded. They were giving him an undeserved amount of attention, but every time he told Alvira about his confusion at being cared for so well, she would simply preen and tell him it was because he was _Chosen._

_:No, some Heralds is all,: _she replied, though "is all" were the last words he would have attached to that sentence. _:They'll be asking you some questions to make sure you're not a spy or something,: _she continued, with an edge of irritation to her voice. Her ire seemed misplaced, as the boy thought this was a perfectly reasonable concern. _:Open your eyes, Chosen-you don't have to sit up if you can't. That one on the left is Herald Talamir, the next-well you know, Alberich. From what I gathered, I figured you wouldn't mind so might as well bring in everyone at once, shoot two ducks with one arrow, yes? Right of him is of course Crathach-he Healed Alberich too you know, good guy. The man and boy on the right are Father Henrick, a Priest of the Sunlord, and his protégé Acolyte Gerichen.:_

_:A Priest of the Sunlord?:_

_:That's right. In Valdemar, we accept all gods,: _she replied with a tinge of superiority. Kerchen wasn't sure about her attitude, but it made him feel better that Valdemar wasn't as godless as he had thought.

_Wow, you were wrong about Valdemar. That is so surprising, _a part of him drawled.

_Well I haven't heard you in awhile. Wait, is that you Alvira?_

_:No, it's just you,: _she replied, amused. _:I suppose you didn't need me to give you biting feedback. Anyway, Herald Talamir is the King's Own Herald. If he approves of you, that will be good enough.: _Kerchen asked what she meant by "good enough," but he did not get a reply before Herald Talamir spoke.

"Hello, Chosen of Alvira. I hear your name is Kerchen?" He nodded, lifting himself into an upright position. Crathach started, but allowed the movement. "We were told you have nearly fully recovered. You'll be a little weak from being bedridden, but you should be up and about soon enough." Talamir smiled gently, and the boy felt reassured to know that the highest ranked Herald in Valdemar seemed every bit as kind as any other Herald he had encountered. "Would it disturb you if we asked you some questions?"

_:Will they be casting Truth Spell?: _Kerchen asked, feeling the peaceful calm that had wrapped him for the last few days ebb away into his old fears.

_:Yes, but they won't force an answer out of you,: _came the prompt reply. _:They'll just know if you're lying.:_ Kerchen relaxed and gave Talamir a positive response. Lying was wrong anyway, so there was nothing to fear.

"Well, first off, your Alvira has told us little about you except your name, so forgive us if our questions seem rude or repetitious." Talamir sat down in a chair next to Kerchen, hazel eyes gazing as though the boy were his grandson. Kerchen met the gaze, as someone who had already accepted him.

"I understand," he replied dutifully. "You have every right. I am grateful enough to have been kept out of a dungeon, much less Healed." The man was visibly surprised, and rewarded Kerchen's honesty with a broad smile.

"You have a very good command of our language," he remarked, half delighted and half wry, looking askance at Alberich. Kerchen nodded solemnly.

"A number of years in Valdemar I spent learning the language. Alvira has helped me to perfect it though." Talamir raised his eyebrow, and began questioning Kerchen and how he managed to infiltrate the Collegia. His tone was kind, soft, and considerate, but Kerchen recognized an interrogation when he heard one, in Karsite or Valdemaran. Although he had plainly refused to disclose any information that might lead to Father Goroch, Talamir seemed unoffended by his selective silence and made no attempt to push subjects that unsettled him. Finally, Talamir addressed the issue that was surely on everyone's mind.

"Kerchen," he started, hesitantly as though he expected the boy to rebel at any time, "why did you enter the Collegia grounds?"

"To kill Alberich," Kerchen replied dutifully. There wasn't a face in the room that didn't twitch at his response.

_:Couldn't you have thought of a better way to say that?: _Alvira half whined.

_:What do you mean?: _He was sure his Valdemaran was perfect.

_:Oh, nothing.: _He could almost hear a sigh in the back of his head.

"So the day you were injured, you were trying to kill him?" Talamir asked softly. Kerchen shook his head.

"Many days I spent spying on Alberich. He is a true man of Karse-as a servant of Vkandis, I could not kill him. That would be against my honor." Out of the corner of his eye, Kerchen spotted Alberich stepping back, as startled as he was when he was called the Great Traitor.

"But why did you attack him and Selenay, then?"

"Because I had promised to kill him. To abandon my oath would be dishonorable." Talamir raised an eyebrow.

"If you weren't trying to kill him, then what were you doing?" he asked, a bit less tactfully than his previous questions.

"I was trying to be killed," Kerchen answered bluntly, and even Alvira stirred at that response. Seeing Talamir's look, Kerchen felt compelled to continue. "Since I could neither kill nor not kill, to die trying was the only option." Healer Crathach folded his arms and regarded him with the exasperated look of a teacher with unruly disciples.

"I suppose," the Healer remarked dryly, "that we should just start rounding up every Karsite that spouts off about honor. Maybe then we can get them Chosen before they get themselves half killed." All eyes seemed to gravitate towards Alberich, who tightened his lips into a sort of scowl.

"Well," Talamir smiled, and his lighter tone seemed to indicate the end of his questioning. "It appears you've integrated yourself with Valdemar fairly well already." Kerchen nodded.

"I like Valdemar," he said seriously, though for some reason half the adults in the room hid a smile at this. "I want to return to tell Karse about what I've learned." Talamir regarded him solemnly.

"That, I'm afraid, you can't do." Talamir gave a look back at Alberich, who nodded. "Though only the Heralds and Trainees that arrived to aid Selenay and Alberich know of your identity, all of the Council and Court knows there has been an assassination attempt at the Heir." Kerchen opened his mouth to correct the last statement, but Talamir raised a hand to silence him. "To correct their impression would be to risk exposing your identity as the culprit. Although the Heralds will learn to accept the reasons for your actions, it would not be so easy to gain the trust of other Valdemarans. Therefore, we will be keeping your true origins secret. Your command of Valdemaran is superb, so you will easily be able to pass off as one from the Border. However, as you will be expected to act as an average Valdemaran Trainee, you will essentially have to give up your Karsite heritage for now."

_:They also want to keep an eye on you, so you don't accidentally send sensitive information back to your benefactor in Karse,: _Alvira added, answering questions Kerchen had not yet phrased.

"I will try my best to follow your instructions, though I will not lie if questioned," Kerchen agreed, though the Herald's frown looked as though Kerchen had objected.

"In the off chance that someone asks you what country you are from, I ask that you reply Valdemar," Talamir requested seriously.

"I won't," Kerchen objected, with the same graveness, "because lying is wrong." There was a silence as Talamir scrutinized him, but in the end he seemed to let the issue slide.

"I know this is a lot to ask of you, Kerchen. If you ever wish to speak of your homeland or honor the Lord of Light, you will always be allowed to visit Father Henrick and Gerichen at their temple. As a Trainee, you have the right to visit the city as you like." Kerchen's lethargic spirits brightened a little at this, since it meant he could visit Dieder and Grandma Magdee. Talamir saw the change in his expression, and matched it with a warm smile. "We've talked for a long time, Kerchen," he said, getting up from his seat. "Get some rest, and not too long from now you will begin taking courses as Herald-Trainee."

"I am honored that you have accepted me, despite everything I have done," Kerchen bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you. This is-more-than I ever deserved." All heads in the room turned to him after this statement, but this time it was Alberich who spoke up.

"Value your life you do, boy?" he asked, in Valdemaran that was harsh on his tongue.

"If that is how I can repay your hospitality, then of course." The man snorted.

"No. Value your life you must, because otherwise dead you will be. Beat that into you will I, after you are well enough." And he led the way out, a bit more stiffly than his expression would have indicated.

_:Why did so many people come here? I wanted to know more about the Sunpriests, but they didn't say more than a few words.:_

_:None of them were expecting you to take to life here that easily,: _Alvira explained. _:I didn't tell them about how you stayed with Magdee, so they were expecting you to react like you've been taken hostage.: _Kerchen found the idea vaguely amusing. _:Yes, well, you think it's funny, but Alberich flat out accused Kantor of kidnapping him when he woke up from _his _stay in here. If it weren't for Henrick and Gerichen, he probably would have bolted right back to Karse.:_

_:How was he Chosen?: _Kerchen inquired curiously.

_:Oh, now there's a story,: _Alvira said giddily. _:I'll tell you later. First you should get some sleep-if you're not conscious, with any luck those Healers won't force any more vile potions down your throat.:_

_:I think I will,: _Kerchen agreed. The potions tasted at best like the worst of Magdee's tisane. He settled himself back in his bed, the pain of his wounds unable to break the comfort he felt in his heart.

_:Actually, Kerchen, I'm a little surprised myself-although I knew you'd be fine with the Heralds, I thought you'd be a little more homesick,: _she admitted. It was strange, because Kerchen thought so too. He had the vague impression that he should be more anxious, feel more trapped-but he was neither. Was it because he expected to be dead? That could be it-he had already severed his ties to the world once, so this was like getting a fresh start-of course it wouldn't matter where he was, since anywhere would have been fine.

_A flash of warm light, flooding his vision like a large blanket-_

_:Actually Alvira, I had a dream.:_

_:Oh? What was it?:_

_:I can't recall-all I remember is a light feeling, like a weight was lifted off my chest. I feel-forgiven, but more than that.: _He tried to articulate the happiness he felt in words, but found himself tongue tied. Instead, he sent his feelings down the bond they shared, and was surprised to find the same emotions sent back. Silently, his eyes welled yet again with tears of joy as he experienced the feeling of love once more.

_:Chosen, I will always be there for you,: _Alvira vowed. _:Even if you had died, I would have stayed with you.: _A fluttering across the bond akin to embarrassment. _:Not that you would have, in my expert hands! Well, hooves I suppose.:_

_:I understand, Alvira. And I'll be with you too, on my honor.: _Kerchen looked out the window, taking in the sky, and noted how it was identical to the skies in Karse. He would have to leave Father Goroch behind, but perhaps Goroch had always known something like this would happen. At least they would still be seeing the same skies.

_:I don't want to deceive you, Chosen,: _Alvira started, reluctantly. _:Life here has its own difficulties-Valdemar has her own villains, and don't be surprised to see them in your classes. And although the Heralds and Trainees that witnessed your incident won't disclose your identity, they might not accept you right off.: _Kerchen dismissed these worries.

_:That's fine, it's only to be expected. I'll get through it if you're with me.: _His Companion bristled with embarrassment. He heard a bell ring, followed by a bustle of students that he no longer had to pretend to be a part of. _:Alvira?:_

_:Yes, Chosen?:_

_:What will classes be like?:_

_

* * *

_

A Spy's Choice - end

* * *

Hey all!

Well, this is it, the final chapter! Thanks for following this story-I don't know if I could have done it without your support.

Why did I name the story A Spy's Choice when Kerchen doesn't actually gather intel? I don't know.

What? I'm ending the story before Kerchen gets to find himself some Trainee friends and battle an evil mage? I'm going to leave it at a quick ending with a dozen loose threads? Yep, but only for now-I'm going to have to regroup the story that comes after, and it's going to take time that I might not have between classes at the moment, so didn't want to leave the story just dangling. I'm also undecided on whether or not I'll be continuing in a sequel story or just adding onto this one again, but that's a minor detail I suppose...

Thanks for staying with me til the end, and as Misty would say, wind to thy wings!


	12. Chapter 12

Hey all!

As promised awhile back, this is a filler chapter! Although whether anyone believed me or not was the real question..

* * *

**Extra Chapter: The Adventures of Kerchen and Valdemarans  
**_How Dieder and Kerchen came to barhop_

"Hey Kerchen, ya think y'can stay up fer tonight?" Dieder asked out of the blue, popping into Kerchen's room between his assigned chores for Magdee. Kerchen looked up from his book hesitantly.

_Why would he ask that? _the Karsite agent wondered, suspicious. There was no way the week thief would have caught onto him-or had he been too careless? _No, catching me is impossible for Dieder._ As though reaffirming his opinion, the sandy-haired boy waited blankly for Kerchen's response, though a bit impatiently.

"Com'un, ya don't know 'ow t'read anyway!" Kerchen pursed his lips into a pout.

"This is a number," he said pointedly, gesturing to said number.

"Yea yea-so what say you huh?" Dieder seemed pretty eager about this, and Kerchen decided he was in the clear.

"I suppose yes," he replied, thinking about the prowls he made every night. "Why?" The former thief's eyes lit up.

"Well, I was thinkin' 'bout checkin' out sum taverns," he began-and Kerchen already was having second thoughts about this endeavour- "but niver really fancied goin' to the _real _interestin' ones m'self-since yer a pretty gloomy guy, I figured wit' you there we'd fit right in." Though he hadn't caught every word the boy had said, Kerchen scowled.

"An insult this is, I am sure of it," Kerchen stated crossly and attempted to return to his book. Dieder hastily grabbed the book and slung his arm around Kerchen to distract him.

"Naw naw, it means yer tough!"

"Try to say that without a smirk on your face," Kerchen replied tartly, turning to Dieder to see none other than a wide grin.

"Aw, now that's a tall order."

But some way or another, he was persuaded to join Dieder in this "tavern leaping" business. All in all, Kerchen reasoned, it was probably a worthwhile endeavour. It would be like one of his usual hunts for information, except with Dieder, which would probably make him look less suspicious, really.

Dieder, to his credit, was doing an unwontedly good job of acting serious. The spy had been worried that they might get robbed, but he was reassured, at least until he arrived at the tavern entrance.

"Why here?" Kerchen asked incredulously. "Dangerous, it is." The week thief raised an eyebrow.

"So ya know 'bout the Red Barrel?" Kerchen rolled his eyes.

"Even if know I did not, one look is enough." The entrance was red and thick-its thickness a necessity to contain the rabble that was its usual clientele. Regardless, the door was beaten down in some places, some holes a testament to the brutality of its customers and their ability to turn anything into a brawl. Through the holes, the boy could tell it was one of their better nights-though that wasn't saying much at all. Dieder looked in as well, peering at the blur of scarred, shaggy, snarling and armed bullyboys.

"S'ppose yer right," he sniffed. Regardless, he still had that giddy, adventurous grin on his face, and Kerchen wondered why he wasn't more worried. Dieder opened the door anyway, and pointed with glee to an empty table by the wall.

"'ey look!" he shouted over the clamor of the tavern, "An empty spot le's take it!" and dragged the Karsite boy along with him. A hand on his knife, Kerchen settled himself warily into his seat, considerably less eager than the boy across from him. The other boy caught the attention of a waitress, whose gaudy makeup and hiked skirts made Kerchen cringe. _Why did I think Dieder would have a good idea?_

"Two beers, ma'am!" Dieder was hardly giving Kerchen an answer to that question. The waitress flashed a full set of dirty teeth at them.

"'course!" She accompanied this with a wink that Kerchen couldn't quite identify but knew to be nothing good. As she left, he pulled in his rowdy companion, shaking him from his fascination with the tavern.

"Dieder, what do you think you're doing!" Kerchen whispered angrily. "If you order just beer, the dirty house beer you will get!" _And that would be far from drinkable-_

"Yer pretty familiar wit' dis, huh?" Dieder raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Kerchen stopped cold, wondering how to approach this situation. _Should I tell him the truth? He isn't a bad person-but then again, as a Valdemaran it might be his obligation to turn me in. Well, it isn't as though my target is his king or anything, just the Great Traitor-but then again, the Great Traitor has become one of their Demon Rider "Heralds," which for some reason everyone seems to admire. Though I do trust him-but wait, if he finds out that the reason why I sleep so much during the day is because I go out at night, why wouldn't he tell at least Grandma Magdee? She might not let me out so I can help out during the afternoon-well, I suppose I should do that occasionally-actually, maybe Dieder wouldn't tell her if I tell him not to. Then again, Dieder has done some pretty strange things just to wring out a laugh-_

"Um," he managed. Dieder laughed and hit him on the back.

"Dun worry ol' fren'! We gunna tavern leap tonigh', so kin't use all it up now, ya?" Kerchen had no idea what he meant and suspected only half of it was because Dieder had slipped into his incomprehensible "bad part of town" speech. "'ey look, it's our order!" And on cue, two bilious swills crashed down on their table. With another unwholesome wink, the waitress swaggered off, as though she had done them some good. Kerchen looked down on his mug of sludge with disgust.

"Don't drink it," he warned, "Saw how it's made I did-" But an impressive spurt of liquid shooting from Dieder's mouth told him his warning was too late.

"Pfffthh! Wut did I jus' drink?" Kerchen graced him with his most disapproving look, then turned his gaze down at his own mug, bubbling like a witch's brew.

"No words have I," he said crossly at the beer, folding his arms as though the beer had personally slighted him. Dieder looked over curiously.

"Wut, is drinkin' wrong too now?" Kerchen shot him a look that he then misinterpreted. "Dun worry, ain't no 'eralds gunna come t'dis side o' town."

"Perform right acts for Heralds, I do not," Kerchen stated flatly. "It is just wrong to do wrong things. Drinking is not wrong, but calling this a drink is-definitely." He grimaced, and Dieder bobbed his head up and down in agreement. Relieved to see that the boy was starting to find reason, Kerchen decided to ask him a question that had been on his mind.

"Actually," the Karsite boy started, wondering if this was a good idea, "why perform well I should in front of Heralds?" _After all, they are witches and demons-is it because they are naturally attracted to wrongdoers, just like the children's stories back at home? Though if that's the case, then Heralds should be everywhere in this part of town. They speak of Heralds as if they were some kind of-city guard. I should figure out what the people of Valdemar think of Heralds-perhaps ask Dieder? _Kerchen looked down at his own hands and noticed they were twiddling nervously. _Sunlord, why do I do that so often? Stop it-alright. I could ask Dieder-should I trust him? I don't think he'll tell on me to the Heralds-and he likely won't even find anything suspicious. But, what if he's also a demon in disguise whose true face triggers when I bring up my suspicions-no that's stupid. Alright, well, he knows I'm from Karse, after all; since he hasn't pushed the subject on my opinion about Heralds, it probably means he doesn't care very much. So it should be safe right?_

_Oh just hurry up, _another side of him interjected with exasperation, _if he's not trustworthy you can just kill him. _Though logically this did make sense, Kerchen found himself appalled by this idea. As if aware of his shock, the side added, _Besides, he's not that observant. _That idea set Kerchen more at ease, so he decided to ask the Valdemaran boy his real question. "Heralds-demons, are they not?" There was a pregnant pause, and Kerchen wondered if he'd finally asked too much. Worried, he turned to Dieder, only to find the latter staring at the bottom of his mug in a stupor.

"'ey, tastes bedder at d'boddum o' de mug..." he mumbled, eyes wide with drunken fascination.

"Um.." Before Kerchen could say anymore, a man as inebriated as Dieder but twice as large lumbered over, his face clearly sprayed all over with beer. Kerchen had a sneaking suspicion of who had done that-though whether Dieder realized it or not was a mystery, as his face was entirely vacant.

"_You!_" the man spat, with as much fury as one could pack into a slurred syllable. "Wassit you, ya bastid?" Dieder pointed and laughed.

"Aaah ha ha ha ha!" Each syllable came out in a different pitch, but the man was less than impressed.

"Know yer place!" he howled, charging as to strike Dieder. Instinctively, Kerchen kicked the table forward, knocking the drunkard back. Since the man's balance was so poor, his heavy build did nothing but plaster him to the ground and roll him ungraciously across the floor.

"Attacking a child is wrong," Kerchen admonished, though there was no point as the man was already unconscious. _Although Dieder _was_ to blame-I was a bit hasty._

"Kerchen," Dieder trailed, staring with disbelief at the heap of drunkard on the floor, "Yer the violent type, eh?" Kerchen was about to object but a flying mug told him that now was not the time for idle talk. Their scuffle had somehow caused a chain reaction across the tavern, and Kerchen did not envy getting further caught in the crossfire. Grabbing hold of Dieder's wrist, he bolted out the door, pausing only to throw some money on the table. _Though that sludge was hardly worth anything.._

He ran for only a few streets, half dragging, half carrying his inebriated companion with him. Dieder had sobered up in the meantime, and eventually Kerchen pulled him over to have a talk with him.

"You listen," he began, but was cut short by Dieder's airborne finger.

"'ey man, look! Sum'ow we got t'the next stop!" Dieder pointed in the direction of, incredibly, yet another tavern. As if that wasn't enough, this tavern had an unmistakable logo that made Kerchen stare at Dieder in disbelief.

"Go into the _Broken Arms, _you want?" asked Kerchen incredulously, as he tried to stop his eye from twitching. "Worse this is!" Too gone to wonder how Kerchen knew this, Dieder simply swung an arm around his shoulders and lighted up with a wide grin.

"Yea man, gotta live a lil'!"

"Much living in _here _there is not!" _I barely survived the first, and _last_, time I went here. _Unfortunately, his companion was already heading in with a misplaced glee. "D-Dieder? Come back!" Kerchen rushed after him, but not in time to stop him from saying the two words he least wanted to hear.

"Two beers!"

"What did I say about ordering just beers!" Unfazed, Dieder settled himself at a table and patted the spot next to him.

"Com'ere, com'ere..." he cooed, not stopping his beckoning until Kerchen took the spot. No match for Dieder's antics, the Karsite boy pretended to settle in his seat, surveying the room cautiously. He could already feel the hairs on his neck rise, as his eyes scanned thug to thug to sellsword, though those often were just a bigger thug. The group here wasn't quite as rowdy as those at the Red Barrel, but that only meant they didn't have to be. They were bigger dogs that barked less, and Kerchen was not inclined to being in the midst of so many of them. Certainly, he had punished one or two in his spare time, but he knew his chances inside the tavern were not good. _It's best if we keep low, and keep Dieder away from others. _He looked askance at Dieder, who was obliviously rummaging through his clothes, apparently looking for something.

"Now that in a dangerous tavern we are," Kerchen remarked, unable to keep a dry tone out of his voice, "you want to do what?" A grin indicated he found his item, and the boy quickly flourished a deck of cards.

"Me an' m'ma play a game called Fetchin' Tricks, wan' me t'teach ya?" _He pulled us in here just to play cards? _Kerchen stared crossly at Dieder, hoping his consternation would be very clear.

"Why in here must we play?" asked Kerchen, aware of how often he was complaining today. The other boy simply shrugged.

"'Cause taverns are where y'go t'play cards?"

"Er..." Surprised by this response, Kerchen trailed off and looked around. Well, there were quite a few card games going around-perhaps it was true? From observation, he had always assumed that card games in taverns were some kind of scam or prelude to beating someone up-but perhaps that was just due to the type of people who played? Kerchen looked back at his companion shuffling cards, seemingly devoid of hostile intent. _If the game itself is harmless, then it should be fine if we are the two playing. Wait, but what if it isn't, and he just likes playing stupid games? _He glanced again at the cards._ If Dieder punches me at the end of this, he isn't going to live to regret it. _Though the last time Dieder pulled a prank on the Karsite, it ended with his clothes pinned to the wall by a knife, so it didn't seem likely that he would try that kind of stunt again. _It should be alright to give him a chance. _"I-I suppose?"

"You'll 'ave fun, trus' me!" Dieder flashed a toothy grin, though it didn't reassure Kerchen all that much.

Surprisingly enough, they did end up enjoying themselves (a feat he thought impossible in the Broken Arms), and Kerchen ended the night relatively early, right after he saw Dieder off. _One or two days should be alright-and I was at least enlightened about bars as a result. I had always assumed those were only places for bullies and bandit-types, but I guess I was wrong. Perhaps taverns aren't all that bad?_

Though that was the last time he thought that, it was far from the last time he partook in Dieder's "tavern-leaping."


End file.
